25 Grenades
by Murasaki Kurai
Summary: I am dead. I am your father. I am the Joker.' Allison Napier lived a normal life until she got a mysterious box from her father. Will she be able to stay sane in the midst of turmoil and crisis? POST-DK Cowritten by evilquail
1. Prologue

**25 Grenades**

**By Murasaki Kurai and evilquail**

_Prologue_

The end came like a laugh; quick and… well… _fun_. There was a fall, past uncountable stories of skyscrapers. A tenuous wire cut and released. Then, finally, a comical splat against cold, abandoned pavement in the dead of night. It was perfection.

The abandoned streets of Gotham did not shiver or strain as a blood curdled laugh- mixed with demonic scream pierced the silence. Who was there left to scream? The entire population- save for a few- had been evacuated hours before and were finally calming down after _almost _being blown to kingdom come.

The body was dragged off the streets before anyone could see it. Even the trail of blood was completely erased.

But laughter, which could never be erased, rang on through the city for hours after.

:::::::::::::

My mother left my father three months after I was born. I don't really know the reasons, and I honestly don't care. All I know is that he and my mother were high school sweet hearts. Neither went to college and they got married only two months after their graduation. Then everything went downhill. He started drinking and doing drugs. Then, I was born, and my mother just couldn't take it anymore. She left him. Not for herself, like she should have years earlier. But for me. For my own safety.

:::::::::::::

I attended a rather prestigious public high school south of Gotham City, in the suburban haven where crime native to Gotham hardly ever reached. It was a sheltered life, and one I was grateful for. I wasn't the top of my class, nor the prettiest, or even the most popular. I was average. I enjoyed a laugh, here and there, and liked spending time with my senior boyfriend, Mitchell, who also attended Gotham County High. We had been seeing each other for six months.

I was a junior when I got the package. I found it in my room, neatly placed at the foot of my bed.

Allison Napier

My name was written in big, bold, red letters, the same color as blood. The smell of cardboard made me sneeze as I ripped the tape off and looked inside.

:::::::::::::

Whoopie cushions? Oh, come _on_. What type of half-assed joke was this? Who the hell would send me a box of whoopie cushions? I shook my head back and forth, in annoyance, and took some of them out. Farting sounds escaped a couple as I absently squeezed them.

Purple caught my eyes and I continued removing the soft rubber until a suit was visible. It was a jacket of a rich purple hue. A green satin vest was visible underneath the lapels- artfully arranged. A polka dot green and purple tie was tucked into the collar of the vest. The entire thing was placed as if it was displayed in a fancy department store.

It was all vaguely familiar. As if I had seen a celebrity wearing it or something. On TV perhaps?

And atop the suit, slightly ruffled by the whoppie cushions that had previously placed on top of it, there was a note. Once again my name was written on top, in blood red letters. I tore open the envelope and began to read.

:::::::::::::

_I'm dead._

_Dead. Dead. Dead. _

_Stone cold. Lying in a heap. Maybe bleeding in an alley. _

_I could probably rant on and on about me being dead and how I died, but I'm not going to. I'm dead. So there. _

_You may be wondering who I am so I guess I should introduce myself a bit. _

_I am dead._

_I am your father._

_I am the Joker._

:::::::::::::

My heart stopped beating

:::::::::::::

_I'm not sure how much your mother told you about me, but I'm quite sure it's not much. _

_After the two of us graduated from East Gotham Public High School in the midst of crime central, we got married and had you. _

_One night, several months after you were born, I was mugged. _

_They took my car. _

_They took my pay check. _

_They had knives. _

_I tried to defend myself. _

_They laughed at me and slowly carved a smile onto my face._

_I went home. _

_Beaten. Exhausted. In pain. _

_You cried when you saw me. _

_But I simply couldn't stop smiling. _

_Your mother begged me to go to the hospital, to get the scars treated, but I refused. _

_I wanted to be smiling when I tracked down and killed those bastards. _

_For two months, I didn't work. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I only searched._

_Finally, I tracked one of them down. _

_I followed him for a week, and soon found the others too. _

_One night I cornered them on a side street. _

_I carved smiles onto their faces and killed them. _

_Laughing all the while. _

_I went back to the house, and laughed as I proclaimed that I would take revenge on all of Gotham city for all that had happened to me. _

_Patti couldn't handle the truth. _

_That night, she packed up the car and took you to start a new life. _

_She didn't think I was sane enough to be a father. _

_Do you think I would have been sane enough?_

_Allison?_

:::::::::::::

Oh. My. God

:::::::::::::

_And so here I am. Dead. _

_My time has expired. I'm leaving all of this to you._

_The empire. The laughs. The fun. _

_You are the clown prince of crime. _

_Enjoy it. Accept it. Absorb it._

_This is you. _

_This is your fate. _

:::::::::::::

And as if to prove his point, there was my school picture stapled to the bottom, along with a beaten, wrinkled joker card. My hands shook as I stroked it. There was a bloody smile drawn across my mouth, stretching up to my eyes- which were blacked out with a permanent marker.

As if I was him.

My father.

The Joker.

"Allison! I'm home!" My mother shouted from downstairs. I flinched.

How much did she even know? Did she know that my father, her former husband had become Gotham's greatest criminal? Did she even know he was dead?

The newscasters were still talking nonstop about how close everyone had been to dying two days ago, on the boats. Nothing about my father. Nothing about the Joker.

Did the police even know he was dead? Did they have the body? Did anyone have the body?

Does Batman know? My pulse sped up as I realized Batman must have killed my father.

"I-I'll be down in a few minutes, Mom!" I yelled back slowly. I tried to keep the shake out of my voice, but it was hard. There was a silent pause as I waited for her response, asking if I was ok. It never came.

I sighed and turned back to the letter. I gently ran my finger along the edge of the joker card and my vandalized picture, which met at the bottom, where it was paper clipped together. I dropped the letter and shivered before taking out the purple jacket, with the green vest inside. There was also some half-used makeup, between the jacket combination and the pants. It was cheap, acne causing grease paint that could be bought at a Dollar Store around Halloween. For stupid, kinky little costume parties.

_So this is what the great Joker wears on his face. On his body. I wonder how it would_- I dropped the makeup and it bounced a bit. Had I honestly just considered _wearing _this makeup? I shook my head back and forth. No. That was _never _going to happen. It didn't matter if I was _considering _it or just wanted to _try _it. I was never going to wear the makeup, or the suit for that matter.

I returned to the box, which was still half full. I picked the pants up, hoping there weren't going to be any more whoopie cushions.

_Shit! _I picked the box up and practically threw it out the window before stopping myself, remembering the danger of sudden movements. And explosives.

The bottom of the box was completely filled with grenades, lined up neatly, filled the remaining area perfectly. I picked one up, and fingered the pin carefully, slowly.

_I wonder if it's real… _Who was I kidding? This was the _Joker_ I was talking about. Of _course_ the explosives were real. And he probably expected me to do something with them.

But I wasn't going to. I was going to forget about this, and shove the box in my closet. The End.

I was going to forget about this entire thing ever happened, go downstairs, and have a nice dinner with my mom. We were going to fight about whether or not I had to have my homework done before I watched my favorite TV program. Then I was going to bed, and tomorrow I was going to fail my English Test on different character emotion patterns in _Much Ado about Nothing_. After school, I was going to walk home with my boyfriend like I always did, and he would kiss me before I went inside my house. Maybe I would even invite him inside for some of the brownies my mom made.

Next year I would graduate, and go to a college somewhere far from Gotham City, away from the hell that occurs here. Then I would get married, and when my mom retired, I would invite her to come live with my husband and I. My mom would help me raise my normal children, in a normal house, somewhere normal. Then, I would retire, and eventually… I would die. My entire life was easily planned out for me. It was so easy, everything I needed to do was predetermined in a normal path.

_But…_

I grabbed a grenade, and placed it in my pocket before shoving the box in the closet and heading downstairs.

* * *

**A/N We worked really hard on this and we'd appreicate reviews! My cowriter, Evilquail, and I absolutley LOVED The Dark Knight, and we put our heart and soul into it! **

**Evilquaill: and spleen! Don't forget the all important spleen! **

**Kurai: ...yeah. Uh... so the next chapter should come out relatively fast because... if not... Evilquail might kill me...**

**Evilquail: maybe... maybe not. Well anyways, we were at this movie... in the theater and such and for one, I thought it was a comedy. We were CRACKING up the entire time. When the lights came on, we noticed that the people next to us had moved faaaarrr away, because they were completley afraid of us. It was HILARIOUS. hehahohehohoha**

**Kurai: Buh-bye!!**

**Evilquail: Toodaloo old chap and salutations to your zebra! **


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The First Grenade

It was Friday. It had been three days since I got the package from my late father. The box remained stored in the far back corner of my closet, where my mother wouldn't go looking for it. I trained my eyes to stay away from it, but my mind never once left it. It visited me in my dreams, and in my waking hours, the same.

That night my father, the Joker, visited me. He didn't talk to me, or look at me, he just stood there, staring into space. His eyes were empty. His makeup and hair dye was faded. The dark room glowed green and yellow, like piss. For what seemed like ages, he stood there, doing nothing, moving only slightly, and I just watched.

When I woke up from this nightmare, it was three in the morning. I tried to go back to sleep but I couldn't stand to stay in bed. I jumped out of my warm sheets and pulled on a dirty pair of jeans and a navy blue hoody, then slid silently out the window, a firm, round grenade cradled in my pocket, like a precious jewel.

I wasn't really sure how I ended up downtown. I probably took a bus or a train, but I was sort of asleep during most of it. When I was far enough down town, in a little alleyway, I sat down on the steps of a building and leaned against the door.

I sat there until past four, and was grateful it was a Friday and my mother wouldn't think it strange I didn't come down stairs early the next morning. I wasn't even the only person in the alley. A couple homeless guys were sleeping a few doors down, and every once in a while, a car would drive by, booming ear pounding rap music that made my stomach hurt to hear.

This might have been the type of neighborhood my parents lived in. That I had lived in. This even could have been the type of place the Joker got his scars. I tried to imagine a youthful Joker, screaming in horror, on the ground, scared to death of the men standing over him, knifes in hand. I tried to imagine him without the long scar curving up and down his cheeks in a grotesque smile.

I couldn't see it. I didn't even know what he had looked like, without the scars or the makeup. Back when he was just my father. It was too difficult to see the man behind the makeup. All I had ever known of my father was his meticulous crimes that had the entirety of Gotham City stumped by the very idea of him. Before I knew the whole story behind the Joker, my hands had shivered at the mere thought of someone having such innate and incorrigible plans, yet still completely believing everything he did was pragmatic.

His mind had collapsed under the pain he must have gone through, when my mother and I couldn't stand to look at him. How he must have felt that everything would be better if he just got his vengeance, then the disappointment when he never got salvation, or happiness. How he was forced to smile through his suffering, when my Mother left with me. What human soul could live through that without being completely devastated?

Certainly not my father. Certainly not me.

I was still contemplating my father when I heard the violent screech of car brakes, one doorstep away, where a girl was slowly approaching the stoop I sat on, hidden by shadows. The car was cheap, and a few windows were broken. It was driven by a middle aged man. He stopped next to the girl.

When she stepped into the light, I was finally able to notice her features. She was a few years older than me, and held a purse under her arm. She wore low jeans, and a cropped blue, strapless shirt. Her makeup was overdone, and the varying contrast of her obviously colored hair was slutty. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at the man in the car, who was staring at her.

The car stopped.

The man got out.

"Hey baby, I'm glad I found you…" His voice was slurred and he snorted a bit. "I've been lookin' for ya all night. Les'go home."

"Uh… excuse me…" She stuttered nervously. Her fake eyelashes batted a few times as she stepped back. He closed his outstretched hand around her wrist.

I unconsciously leaned forward, and watched the man walked over to her, watching her. My mouth fell open, as I realized what was happening in front of my eyes. As his hair covered hand grasped around her wrist, my legs automatically stood, grasping the grenade tightly.

The girl opened her mouth to scream, but his hand yanked on her hair, forcing her silent. He pulled her towards the back seat of the car, and pushed her inside. She was crying now, silently begging, but he didn't even look at her as he raised the gun to her head and slapped some duct tape over her mouth.

I couldn't even control my feet as I pulled my hood up, to hide my face, and flung myself off the steps, towards the car. They guy turned around, but I held up the grenade. He froze, and stared into the darkness beneath the hood that was my face.

"_Drop the gun_…" I hissed. Shaking the grenade threateningly. He did. I moved around him, almost dancing behind him, and he tried to turn to see me, but I was too fast.

Just as his jaw came into view, I punched it, and I heard it crack grossly. I opened the car door and pulled the girl back out, and she stumbled off of the street, to lean against the building fearfully, before turning back to see what I would do.

"_Leave_…" He nodded hurriedly, and jumped into the car seat, and placed his hand on the wheel. The car started to move…

I pulled the grenade's plug, and softly tossed it into the car. The man drove away, and I walked away. I didn't even turn back to see the explosion I could hear easily.

The girl screamed, and stumbled across the ground, in the other direction. I picked up my speed to a run, and turned a corner quick, making my way off into the night.

I got back on the same bus line I had taken to get down town, and headed home.

I got home by twilight, and once I was safely hidden inside my room, I laughed.

I laughed about the look on the man's face when he thought he was off the hood with a sore jaw.

I laughed about the girl's terrified scream even though she knew I had saved her.

I laughed about the flames that I hadn't dared look at, but had heard crackle behind me, slightly dulled by my heavy footsteps and quick breaths.

I laughed about the exhilaration I felt when I pulled the plug in that explosive and quietly dropped it into the man's car.

Oh, I laughed. Oh, I laughed. Oh, I laughed.

**A/N This is the START of Alison going insane. It's kinda fun to write...**

**Evilquail: And kind of fun to experience. It happened to me over approximatley 2 and a half years. What about you Murasaki?**

**Kurai: Well I used to be extremely preppy, but I'm not entirely sure when it occured. I used to wear lots of flowers and butterflies and colors. Now I wear black. Lol. **

**Evilquail: just because you wear colors dosen't mean you are preppy. Take me for example. I like neon. And black. And neon. But I'm not preppy. I leave that to my father. **

**Kurai: Anyways... the next chapter should be pretty funny. Evilquail wrote this HILARIOUS song that's gonna come up. I just love it. XD**

**Evilquail: Ah the joys of music (hums the song) **

**Kurai: Later!**

**Evilquail: Toodlooo and salutations to your artichoke hearts!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The Second Grenade

My mom woke up at her normal time, and the early morning was relatively quiet, as I stayed in my room and pretended to sleep while I looked through the box from my father. I counted the grenades again a few times, as a nervous habit I tended to have. After a while, I had to force myself to stop, so I lay on my bed and tried to memorize the moment I had pulled the trigger and simply walked away. My shoulders shook.

What had I been _thinking_? I had killed that man! I could have let him off the hook and been done with it… Why did I have to do that? It would be all over TV and the newspapers! Everyone would be talking about it and eventually it would be tracked back to me.

Damn it, I can't believe I did that to my mom! Wasn't she already suffering enough after the Joker, who she once loved, was hurt physically and mentally so crumbled to pieces? I felt like I had failed to protect the person who was most important to me.

Long before noon that day, every local news station was talking about the car explosion late Friday night nonstop. The suburban streets were completely empty, as everyone was inside, watching their TV sets about what had happened.

I too, wanted to see the damage I had done, though reluctantly. More than anything, I wanted to see how my mother handled it.

"It's crazy, isn't it?" I asked innocently. I tried to hide the panic in my voice, but she was hardly paying attention. She stared straight to the TV. A picture of a teenage girl a bit older than me had shown up.

It was the same girl I had saved from the night before.

"_After the fire was cleared, a senior attending a suburban public high school, Gotham Country High, approached the police, with information about what had happened." _The broadcaster said. "_Laura Damon has agreed to an interview with us once the police were finished interrogating her."_

I gasped at the same time as my mom. I attended Gotham County High.

"Oh… my god…" We said simultaneously. She went to my school?! What if she recognized me?!

"_I was just, like, walking around the area, and I was approached by a car, driven by this guy. He got out and started talking to me like I was his girlfriend or something. I had never seen this guy before in my life, and started to try and get away, but he-he grabbed me and p-put duct tape over my mouth!"_

Laura started crying a bit. Mascara ran down her face.

"_He had a gun p-pointed at me…_ _He was pulling me into the car w-when this figure appeared out of NO WHERE and… and he had a grenade-"_

He?

"_And made the guy drop the gun… And… the man got in the car… and… and started to drive away… but the guy… just pulled the plug on the grenade… and dropped it into the car… And after about three seconds… It…"_

Laura wasn't capable of speaking clearly enough to talk anymore, so the broadcaster flashed back to the glimpses of the fire, while they tried to get more out of her. My mom turned to me.

"H-have you ever seen her before?" She asked me. I shook my head.

"Not at school…" It wasn't a lie, but my stomach dropped a bit.

What was even more interesting was that Laura seemed to think I was a guy… strange. She had heard me speak… Did I really sound that masculine?

"This is so horrible…" My mother whimpered. She hugged her legs close to her. "I need to get to work to see if something came up… You'll be ok?"

I nodded. "I'll be fine." I smiled at her as she walked out of the room to get shoes and leave. I sighed and turned back to the TV where they were still discussing my crime. Laura was back, and had calmed down a bit.

"_Can you describe the man at all?" _The interviewer asked. Laura nodded.

"_He was shorter than me… and was wearing a dark colored sweatshirt… with the hood up. And his voice was strange… Almost feminine…"_

I laughed a little but glanced up quickly to see my mom was still standing in the door way, watching. I turned my giggle into a cough. She didn't seem to notice.

"_He sounded young…_"

"_Anything else?" _The woman asked her. Laura shook her head.

"_It's… kind of fuzzy…" _She muttered. "_S-sorry…"_

The reporter shook her head and smiled. The camera focused off Laura and onto the reporter.

"_We'll be back with a word from the Police Commissioner, Jim Gordon, who also has a few things to say about the occurrences last week concerning the Joker after this break."_

I glanced away from the TV and looked over my shoulder to make sure my mother was gone. She was. I breathed out and leaned my head back, starting to drift off to sleep after a few minutes. I had been awake all night, and the emotional strain had been tiring.

I wasn't really sure how long I had been asleep, but when I awoke, mid afternoon, to the phone ringing. I jumped up and, a little bit dazed, ran into the kitchen. I picked it up off counter.

"Hello?" I asked tiredly.

"_Is this Patti?_" A male voice came through the speaker.

"No, sorry. This is Allison. Can I take a message?"I replied.

"_Allison? Allison Napier?" _The voice questioned in response.

"Yes… Can I help you?"

"_Do you mind if I stop by? Right now? I'm outside in a car_…" I caught my breath and calmed myself down.

"N-now isn't a good time… My mom is at work and I just woke up…"

"_It's fine. It won't take long._"

"No, it's really not a good time."

"…_I understand. The boss was the same way the first time he used a grenade. It's an invigorating experience, huh?"_

_The boss? _

"_I don't know what you're talking about." I lied. _

_What if this man was from the police? What if he knew the Batman? What if he was the Batman?_

"_Taking precaution as to what you say. Just like the boss. Very wise. Well. Then, I'll just leave a letter on the front step. It's for you. And your mother. Just pick it up whenever._"

"S-sure…" I replied. "Thanks…"

The phone clicked as he hung up. I dropped the phone and sprinted into my room, where I dove under the bed and grabbed the gun, then sprinted back to sit around the corner from the front door, the gun cocked and ready, just in case.

I sat there for a good half an hour before calming down, and standing to walk away from the door.

"_The Joker's plans are still unpredictable. We don't know where he is, or how he got away." _Jim Gordan was talking on TV. "_He's just a crazed killer, and we'll bring him to justice._"

"_Is there any chance last night's explosion was a product of the Joker?_" The reporter asked. Gordan shrugged.

"_There is, but by the word of the witness and the scale of the bomb, it's not very much._" He laughed. "_The Joker tends to be more large scale._"

"_Thank you, Gordon._" They replayed some clips from the interview with Laura from earlier. I turned the TV off and decided to finally get dressed, and return the gun to where it had been under my bed.

Once I had put on a t-shirt and jeans, I made my way back into the living room, when I remembered the man, saying he was leaving something on the front porch. A letter. I slowly cracked open the door, to make sure it was indeed only a letter. I glanced out, seeing a letter. It had blood red writing on it, in the same handwriting as had been on the box.

Patti and Allison Napier

Could this also be from my father? I grabbed it and darted back inside, into my room.

I really should have waited for my mom to get home, so we could read it together, but somehow, I doubted she would be able to handle whatever was in this letter.

I slowly opened the envelope to reveal a card with a large, obnoxious , yellow smiley face plastered on the front. It was only then that I noticed that the card was not completely flat.

Not knowing what to expect I slowly pried the letter open using a hanger. Suddenly the note started producing a loud hum.

Of course. A singing card.

I put my ear close to the wrinkled paper and started to listen.

_I'm dead! Dead! Dead! _

_Cold and unaware! _

_I'm dead all around! _

_Yes I'm dead! Dead! Dead! _

_Visitors beware! _

_Cause I'm not in the ground! _

_Now I am having a funeral! _

_Everyone from all around! _

_Coming to view a dead body! _

_A corpse of a rather mangled clown! _

_I'm dead! Dead! Dead! _

_Cold and unaware! _

_I'm dead all around! _

_Yes I'm dead! Dead! Dead! _

_Visitors beware! _

_Cause I'm not in the ground! _

_So where is this fabulous party?_

_Well, plans are not all quite done! _

_But you will probably find me! _

_Around East Street and Fifty One! _

_I'm dead! Dead! Dead! _

_Cold and unaware! _

_I'm dead all around! _

_Yes I'm dead! Dead! Dead! _

_Visitors beware! _

_Cause I'm not in the ground! _

The music stopped and I began to examine the rest of the card. Besides the smiley face, the card was completely blank except for a small sentence on the inside, probably written by someone else. It read:

_The funeral for the boss will be held at midnight Saturday. In lieu of flowers please bring whoopee cushions. _

Who uses a singing card as a funeral invitation? Still… the song was a bit catchy. I closed it and opened it again, to listen to it.

Should I be going to this funeral? It was obvious that my Father had meant for me to come, but shouldn't I be trying to deny that the Joker was my father? Shouldn't I be keeping the entire thing from my Mother, so that, on the slight off chance she had no clue that Jack Napier had become the Joker, she would never have to know.

I heard the garage door creak open so I sighed and shoved the card into my pocket, then turned the TV back on and walked into the kitchen, to get some soda.

A couple seconds later, my mother walked in, looking a little disgruntled.

"Anything wrong?" I asked.

She groaned. "Mr. Wayne wasn't there today. The entire place was in pure havoc…"

"Want me to make dinner?" I asked. She glanced up at me and smiled weakly.

"Thanks, Allison…" She collapsed onto the couch in the other room and turned the channel off the news immediately.

I really couldn't tell her. The last thing she could deal with right now was news that her ex-husband, who she had loved, and who she had slowly watched go insane, was dead, and she was invited to attend her funeral. She would probably break down into tears during the first verse of the card. I just couldn't do that to her.

An hour later, at 7:30, I had finished making a dinner of grilled chicken and salad. I put a few helpings onto the plates and called my mom from the other room. She quietly walked into the room and sat down across from me at the table.

She was tired, so I didn't bother talking to her. I thought more about what to do.

I couldn't tell me mom, but there was no way I could attend the funeral alone. Who could I trust?

Mitchell.

If a girl couldn't trust her boyfriend, who _could _she trust? Maybe he would even go to the funeral with her…

"Mom?" I asked. She took a bite before looking up at me. "I'm going to go see Mitchell after I clean dinner up, ok?"

"I'll clean up, since you cooked. Go ahead." She gave another weak smile.

"Thanks mom," I replied, standing up.

"What type of mother would I be if I made my daughter cook AND clean when she's itching to see her boyfriend?"

I grinned at her and walked out of the room. I put my shoes and jacket on, then walked out the door.

"Bye, Mom!" And I walked out the door.

It wasn't that far of a walk to Mitchell's house, only a mile. It took my about twenty minutes to get there, because I was in a hurry. The funeral was starting in three hours.

The path that led from the cold, dark sidewalk to Mitchell's front door was lit up, glowing, so I could see the path. I debated going to the front door and just ringing it, but it would be better if I silently went in, so Mitchell could sneak out with me.

I sprinted around to the back of the house, where Mitchell's room was. Once I was next to the flower bed outside the window, I grabbed a pebble and flicked it up a bit, against the window. The ding of the impact must have alerted him.

"…ah…!" A grunt escaped the house as the window opened, but Mitchell never called out the window. I thought better than yelling up to Mitchell, so I crawled up the tree that was outside Mitchell's room. During the warmer months, Mitchell and I used to crawl up it and spy into his neighbor's yards, laughing at some people's stupidity.

Finally, I reached the thick branch I knew could support my weight, so I glanced into the window.

My eyes widened.

There was Mitchell, lying in his bed.

And he wasn't alone.

Lying beside, no, _under_ him was a girl who seemed unable to escape my life lately. I had seen her the night before. I had seen her on the news today.

Laura Damon.

And she was under my senior boyfriend.

Mitchell.

Cheating on me.

No! Mitchell wasn't that type of person… He had never even touched me like he wanted anything more than a relationship.

My thoughts suddenly were broken up. They ran through my head in pieces.

I was shaking.

My mind was collapsing.

I was laughing.

They were talking now.

"I… I have to tell you something Mitchell…" Laura said.

"What?" He asked gruffly. That wasn't my Mitchell's voice…

"I don't think I can do this… What if Allison finds out?"

Mitchell laughed. "She such an idiot. She has no idea. To her, all you are is some random girl who was on the news today."

"I think she seems smart…"

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll break up with her Monday."

"R-really?!"

"Of course. I love you. Ok?"

"Y-yeah…"

And then they were silent.

But I would never be silent.

Never again.

My laughs echoed in through the window. And they separated quickly and looked out.

"A-Allison?!" Mitchell shouted.

"Why, hello there!" I said loudly, laughing. Laura was shivering. "Hey, Laura!" I shouted. She stared at me.

"Y-yeah?"

"That _guy _last night that saved your scrawny little ass…" I paused to laugh a little louder. "That was _me_."

"Oh… my God…"

"Aren't you, ah, going to _thank me_?" I demanded, still laughing. "I _saved _you."

"T-thank you… Allison…"

"You know what?!" I shouted. "You're damn welcome! If I hadn't saved you… I wouldn't have found out this guy was a cheating jackass!"

I pulled the grenade out of my pocket.

"N-NO!" Laura screamed.

"Shut up…" I said, grinning. I pulled out the gun I had just so happened to luckily bring. "Remember this? This is the gun that douche held against your head when he was gonna _rape _you."

"Allison… please… I'm sorry…" Mitchell pleaded.

"Wanna know something else?" I paused to laugh, but didn't wait for an answer. "I just found this out the other day… I'm the Joker's daughter! Don't you see a resemblance?"

Neither said anything.

"Aw, come on Mitchell… Tell me how happy you are for me… finding my long lost father!"

"I… I'm happy for you Ally…" I grinned as he used my nickname.

"Thanks. Me too," I gripped the branch. "See you in hell, lovers."

I pulled the plug of the grenade, and threw it through the open window. There was no resistance. And they had only two seconds before the room would become a pit of fire. And they would die.

I swung down from the branch, not bothering to climb down. I landed gracefully, like a cat.

My laughs finally started to die down a bit again, as I made my way home. I picked up my speed to a run.

There was a note from my mother, saying she had gone to bed early, and I could have some of the cookies she had brought from work. I smiled, and sprinted down the hallway.

Once I had gotten back home, I grabbed another grenade from my stash in the closet, and decided to leave the gun in the box.

The card in my pocket was annoying, so I opened it to listen to it once more, then left it on my bed.

I left the house, through my window.

And I got on the bus.

Sometime on the ride to the address given in the card, I calmed down, and broke down into tears.

I had killed the person I loved.

**A/N I have forgotten this until now... But we DON'T own the Dark Knight. Or the Joker. We DO own Allison, Allison's Mom AKA Patti, Laura and Mitchell. Well, technically, evilquail owns Allison and Allison's mom. I own Mitchell and Laura... Both of whom are dead...**

**Evilquail: We ALL deserve to die! Even you Mrs. Lovett, even...**

**Kurai: This is NOT the time to sing Sweeney Todd! Allison just blew up her boyfriend!!!!!**

**Evilquail: By George, I beg to differ! It is perfectly appropriate... as is Oingo Boingo! **

**Kurai: EVILQUAIL! This is Rated T!! Oingo Boingo is NOT appropriate!!**

**Evilquail: But they are so good! Danny Elfman! **

**Kurai: ANYWAYS! I wanted to give a shout-out to Anarchist-Extraordinaire! Evilquail and I both read your account and you ROCK.**

**Evilquail: We have A LOT in common! We really appreciate the reviews! **

**Kurai: Yeah, so thanks for your reviews! Ok, well that's all for now! Thanks for reading! Review and I won't let evilquail kill you!**

**Evilquail: Toodaloo old chap and salutations to your dead guinea pig! **


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The Third Grenade

The bus finally stopped in front of a worn, decrepit warehouse. When I stepped out of the air conditioned vehicle, I admired the buildings features. It was rundown drafty old brick fortress, the likes of which are often found in the shadiest parts of Gotham. I checked the address several times. I was in the right place.

I went around the entire building before I finally found a door, which was guarded by a lumbering man the size of a small car.

"What do you want?" He growled.

"Um…" I stammered, a little intimidated. "I'm here for the funeral."

"Where's your invitation?" He glared menacingly at my purse.

Invitation? I suddenly remembered the smiling card, still lying at home on my bedspread.

"Well?" His sharp remark snapped me out of my trance.

"I… forgot it at home. But can I come in anyways?"

"INVITATION ONLY!" the man bellowed.

"But sir! It's very important! I have a very close relation to the… deceased." I whispered, not wanting to attract any attention from the passerby by saying my father's name.

"Why should I believe that the boss would invite anyone outside the gang to his funeral, much less a teenage girl? Now unless you have an invitation I suggest you get your pretty little ass out of here, or I'll call the dogs on you."

Now I was mad.

I opened my mouth to yell at him but all that came out was a laugh. Not a joyful little giggle, but a terrible sinister cackle; much like the one produced by the wicked witch from a childhood storybook.

I laughed. And I laughed. And I laughed.

The man stood their shocked, like a silent, lifeless tree. He knew who I was. He knew what I wanted. And he knew he was going to give it to me.

"Uh right this way Miss… " He stammered quickly showing me through the double doors, holding them open for me. As I walked past I saw his hand shaking.

I followed him through a dimly lit hallway until we reached an entryway.

"Out of curiosity" The man wondered, blocking the final entrance. "How exactly… are you… and the boss related?"

"Ah, ah, ah…" I murmured quietly. "Curiosity killed the cat you know. Now, can I see the body or not?"

The man scratched his head "Well, we don't exactly have the body. You see, it was gone before we could recover it. We tried to track it down, but we didn't have any luck. This is simply a memorial service."

I silently breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't exactly wanted to see a bruised and mangled corpse of my late father.

The gigantic hit-man slowly opened the door and beckoned me through. The room was cold and bare; aside from a picture of my father, the Joker, cut out of a magazine and a huge pile of whoopee cushions.

A tall skinny man pranced up to me.

"Hello… Miss Napier." He whispered not wanting to attract attention from any of the other 20 or so gang bangers and mafia leaders in the room. "My name is Mark. Mark Jamison."

His voice sounded familiar, but I just couldn't put name as to where I had heard it before.

"I was the one who dropped off the letter earlier today and the package a few days earlier. I was your father's right hand man ever since your mother left him. Speaking of which, where's Patti?"

"Uh… she didn't think she could bear to come." I swiftly lied. "She has enough stress in her life right now, her job at Wayne Enterprises is in jeopardy and all."

"Alright… then." Mark cleared his throat, "Enjoy the service. You can trust me, but the others here, I'm not so sure about. Don't worry, I'm the only one who knew… your father's… true identity."

Mark walked away as quickly as he had come. Looking around the room once more, I set my whoopee cushions down in the pile and walked over to the picture of my father.

He really did look like me- aside from the scars and the makeup. My hair was longer and I was younger but otherwise we could have easily passed as twins. I could almost see us as a normal father and daughter couple. He would have worked in some normal office, and sometimes, when he worked on weekends, I would visit him with lunch. When I had been in a play, he would have gotten front row tickets for my mother and him, and when I had said my one, mediocre line, they would clap so enthusiastically that I would blush from embarrassment. Eventually, when I would have graduated from Gotham County High School, and had gone off to college, he would cry. Then, finally, when I took the final step into the taxi that would drive me to my new college dorm, he would have given me a hug, and quietly said-

I was violently pushed out of my dreamland by a gruff voice behind me.

"Well?"

I spun around to find myself face to face with a well dressed middle aged man. His hair was neatly slicked back and he looked like he would much rather be somewhere else. His face had a few scabs on it, like newly healed wounds. Nothing too serious.

"Did you hear me girl?"

I shook my head.

"Well, let me say it again. My name is Maroni. Head of the Mob. Wine connoisseur. Excellent cook. I haven't seen you around before. Are you one of them clowns?"

I smiled warily, "I guess you could say that."

"You know, you look a bit like him" Maroni continued pointing to the picture of my father, "Come to think of it you look a lot like him. Are you related?"

"Well actually…"

Another mobster tuned in to the conversation.

"Say she does look like him…" This one spat, "Boss never told me he had a daughter."

One of them smacked the back of this one's head. "Idiot. Don't you remember that girl he always kept around? She's in Arkam now… What was her name…? Ah! Harley-"

"So are you gonna take his job?" One man questioned, cutting the other one off. "Someone needs to fill those purple shoes and all."

"Um…" I hadn't actually thought about it before. Me taking over in the place of Gotham's most wanted criminal? I was just a teenager! Why would I want to give up my peaceful sheltered life for one constantly on the lam?

Maroni laughed, "Please gentlemen. She doesn't even have the scars! The Batman wouldn't fall for it. No one would!"

"Scars?" The first man smiled wickedly, "Is that all? Well gentlemen, we can fix that easily. _Let's put a smile on that face!"_

Shit.

The men slowly started to corner me against the wall. In desperation, I frantically looked around for Mark, but he was nowhere to be found. I tried to reach for the grenade in my pocket, but it was no use. I was quickly pinned to the wall by four heavily armed men. Maroni strode up to where I was struggling.

He pulled a small pocket knife out of his coat, "This is for that damn pile of money!"

I tried to scream but it was too late. **The searing pain was stretching all over my face, white hot.**

I was smiling.

Just like my father.

Just like the Joker.

The men violently hurled me to the floor. I clutched my bleeding face in agony as they laughed and jeered around me.

After a few minutes the crowd cleared and I was able to drag myself to a sink. I pulled myself up to the water and painfully washed out my cuts the best that I could. My heavy breathing echoed through the room. It was then that I noticed my reflection in the mirror.

Oh. My. God.

The grotesque smile that I had the privilege of wearing was nearly identical to the one carved into my father's likeness. My sweaty hair was messy around my bloody face, and the ends were pink colored. His picture still hung on the back wall, those black painted eyes inviting me to take revenge, as he had done so many years ago.

Who was I to deny him?

I reached down and found the grenade in my pocket. I would make Maroni pay. They _all _would pay.

::::::::::

The old warehouse went up in mesmerizing fireworks- glorious and powerful. This explosion was much larger than the previous ones I had triggered and I almost felt that it was… _beautiful_. As I turned to leave the scene, I felt giddy; despite the agonizing pain echoing from my lips.

As I neared the bus stop, **I **knew that I had to find something to cover up my face. I had to be careful- the cops could be lurking around any corner and someone with a large smile carved on their cheeks wouldn't exactly be a normal sight. I searched the alleyway like a deranged animal, trying to find something- anything that would allow me to walk around on the streets. I finally found refuge in an old flowered tablecloth, which I tied around my mouth and neck like a scarf.

The bus was completely deserted by the time I reached my neighborhood. As I pulled myself through my bedroom window I realized in horror that I could never show myself to my mother again.

She would know that I knew about my father. She would know where I had been. She might even know that I had triggered the explosions that had been going on lately.

I quickly racked my mind for a solution. In a desperate attempt to flee I scrawled a fake suicide note on my desk using a sharpie.

_Mom, _

_I can't take it anymore. My life is shattered. I am alone in a hateful and cruel world of which I cannot stand any longer. I am sorry for any pain that I may have caused you in the past and I hope that you will learn to live life without me. _

_By the time you are reading this I will have leaped off of the Gotham West Bridge. I rest in peace. Do not try to find my body as the tides will have already swallowed it and claimed it for themselves. _

_Goodbye. _

_Your loving daughter, _

_Allison_

I quietly sobbed as I wrote. I didn't want to deceive my mom but I knew it was for the best. She just couldn't handle the truth. I just couldn't tell her the truth.

I grabbed the box from the back of my closet and was about to leave when I noticed that it was considerably lighter. I tore it open and, to my horror I found that the suit was missing. In its place was a small folded up note. I quickly read it, my heart pounding.

_Allison, _

_As you may have noticed, I took your fathers suit. Don't worry, it's safe. No one is using it and no one will try. _

_When you are ready, come to 154 East Joy Avenue. _

_If you never find yourself ready to take on this responsibility, I understand. Just forget about everything. Forget about the package. Forget about the suit. Forget about me. _

_But remember it's always there for you. _

_Mark _

Mark must have taken the suit while I was at the funeral. That's why he didn't assist me while I was at the mercy of the mafia. Well at least I had somewhere to go.

I grabbed the remaining contents of the box and ducked into the freezing night.

**A/N Evilquail wrote pretty much this WHOLE chapter. -claps a bunch-**

**Evilquail: Hence the funeral theme.**

**Kurai: There were quite a few notes... Anyways... this is the REAL start of 'Allison's Insanity'. **

**Evilquail: that's why I wrote it. **

**Kurai: She wrote the next chapter too. I'm just editing. I feel so unneeded. D:**

**Evilquail: Aww Kurai... you feel unloved. Just go to Candy mountain and it will make it ALL better! hehehe**

**Kurai: Ooh is there chocolate?**

**Evilquail: Sure?**

**Kurai: YAY! -starts running around- I FREAKING LOVE CHOCOLATE!!! -runs into the wall-**

**Evilquail: hohehaho and I thought** **I was crazy.** **Well anyways I think I'll wrap this up. We wanna give a shoutout to Donatello AKA Holly Quinn. Thanks for all your reviews! We also love your pen name. **

**Kurai: -is on the floor-**

**Evilquail: Toodaloo old chap and salutations to your horse shoe!**


	5. Chapter 4

**We don't own Gotham City.**

**25 Grenades**

**Chapter 4**

The Fourth Grenade

After about an hour of walking, I arrived at a decrepit, rundown apartment complex. 154 East Joy Avenue. I rang the doorbell of a small apartment and waited for someone to answer.

Mark opened the door. He looked tired and dirty, as if he hadn't slept in a while. When he caught sight of my fresh scars, his jaw dropped open.

"What… what happened to you?" His eyes widened as he slowly took in my disgruntled state.

I started to open my mouth to speak, but it quickly closed again, in pain.

"Never mind for now" He sighed "Come inside."

Mark held the door open for me and I cautiously stepped inside. The apartment was dirty but somehow homey at the same time. There was a worn green couch in the corner and a little table laden with old pizza.

"It isn't much but its home." He shut the door quietly, "So, does your mother know about all of this?"

I pointed to my mouth and winced in pain. Mark, understanding, handed me a pad of paper and an oddly bloody pencil.

"_To her, I'm dead_."I scrawled, tears swelling in my eyes. "_I committed suicide. I couldn't let her know the truth. She couldn't handle it. I came because I need somewhere to stay. And I want the suit._"

"I can't give you the suit yet. You aren't ready for it. But I do have somewhere for you to stay."

"_Where?" _I hastily scrawled on the pad

Mark rummaged around in a drawer until he came upon a key which he placed in my bloody hand.

"Second apartment to the left." He quickly stated before hastily attempting to shove me out the door, "It was your fathers. You can stay there as long as you want."

"_Wait…" _I scribbled, "_Why won't you give me the suit? It's rightfully mine."_

Mark sighed, "The boss- your father was a hardened criminal and an insane character. You are need to prove yourself a true… maniac before I can give it to you and allow you to assume his identity."

"_But won't everyone be suspicious that the Joker is gone for so long?"_ I wrote, hoping to change his mind.

"Your… father didn't do anything for months at a time. People will just assume that he is planning something. And if they don't, I can probably convince them- me being his top henchman. Now get some rest. You look half dead." Mark quickly pushed me out the door and into the night.

I soon found the apartment that he was talking about and shoved the key in the lock. The door slowly swung open to reveal the room.

It was rancid.

The room I had walked into was a kitchenette and TV area. The kitchenette was putrid, reeking of half eaten candy bars and month old trash; the last things my father had eaten before his death. A small table with a single chair was covered in documents, which I knew that I would be reading. The TV was small and scratched, and one of its rabbit ears was missing.

_So this is where the almighty Joker got his news. _

I decided to explore the area a little more. The next room was a filthy bathroom, crawling with cockroaches and mice. I quickly shut that door, disgusted.

Across the hall, I found a door leading to a bedroom. It was dark, and I could barely make out the outline of a bed. Exhausted, I flopped onto it and quickly fell into a dark, dreamless sleep.

When I awoke, the sun shining brightly overhead and I could finally get a good look at the room I had slept in the night before.

This room was not as bad as the others that I had seen. The bed that I had been lying on was laden with purple sheets, permanently stained by white, black, red, and green makeup

Of course.

I turned around and discovered a small closet, which I peered into, in search of some clothes that I could wear.

Instead of the pair of jeans and t-shirt I had been hoping for, all I could find was a few undershirts, a pair of smiley-face boxers, and a bizarre, tattered nurse costume complete with a bright red wig.

"_Why are there no clothes in this thing?" _I thought to myself as I stared into the nearly empty closet.

I suddenly realized that my father's only identity for seventeen years was not of a normal man, but of a disgruntled psychopath clown who only owned one real set of clothes. Mark's suit. _My suit._

I wanted that suit. I needed that suit. And Mark was going to give it to me.

::::::::::

I was mad.

Mad. Mad. Mad.

Mark's apartment door was unlocked and area had been completely deserted. After several minutes of searching the main room for a clue as to his whereabouts, I found a note, hastily scrawled on a page of the same notebook I had been using the night before, which was obviously intended for my eyes.

_Allison: _

_In order to prove your intentions to me and the rest of Gotham, you should probably create a new super villain. You will have to cover up your face you can't allow yourself to be recognized; but other than that you are free to do what you wish with the costume._

_I will be back at 3 p.m. to take you to shopping. Come up with a general idea for your costume and identity while I'm gone. Do not try and search for the suit while you are gone. I have it with me. _

_Mark. _

That coward had left. And he had taken the suit with him.

I gripped the grenade in my pocket and left to take my anger out on Gotham City and its stupid worthless masses.

::::::::::

The day couldn't have been more blissfully uneventful for Kyle Lansing. The star reporter for Good Morning Gotham had seen just about everything over the past five years, and usually could expect the news of a horrible tragedy waiting on his desk for him every time he walked into the office. But today went differently. No explosions to panic about. No burning civilians. Just the weather and some unimportant, idiotic celebrity gossip.

Kyle had just finished a report on the dangers of tainted important cosmetics and was about to wrap up his program, when he received an interesting phone call.

"Hello? You're on Good Morning Gotham." Kyle said into the phone, expecting some sort of deranged Republican or Humanitarian forcing him to engage in a 10 minute battle of the wits.

"Really?" The raspy voice came in from the other end, "I… I thought this was the phone number for the meat market. Well I'm sure we can have a conversation anyways. So… Kyle… have you ever… ever wondered how… you would go out of this world?"

"Who… is this?" Kyle started shaking a bit. He had heard this voice before.

"Don't you remember me?" The voice continued. "I remember you. You were on that boat… you were going to press the button. I know you were. But you were saved… by that damn bat-_t_. I wanted… I… I wanted you to do it. I was itching for you to press it. But you didn't-_t_. "

"The… the… the Joker!" Kyle yelped, jumping out of his seat.

"The one and only!" The voice laughed. "Now I answered your question and I would appreciate you answering mine-uh. Would you rather go out short-_t_ and sweet or maybe nice and long?

Kyle gulped, "I… I guess short and sweet…"

"I was… hoping you would say nice and long, Kyle, that's my favorite… way. But… if you insist! HAHAHAHAHA!!!"

The phone in Kyle's trembling hand continued laughing until it was blown to kingdom come two seconds later.

::::::::::

As I flipped my cell phone closed and began to enter my father's apartment once again, I had a brilliant blast of insanity and genius regarding the new villain of Gotham City that Mark wanted me to create.

I could be someone who doesn't have to talk. I could be someone who can wear a mask. I could be a _mime_.

I knew it would work. I wouldn't have to risk my identity to be discovered. And, I would be sticking with the circus theme. Perfect.

I started to grin in amazement at my twisted mind but quickly flinched in pain. I had cracked the thin scab that had grown over the knife wounds and my face was bleeding. Hard. I found a few dirty paper towels in the kitchen and was attempting to stop the blood with them when Mark walked in, a bag of groceries in hand.

"I brought you some stuff." He tried not to stare at the scene taking place in front of him. "Are you… ready to go?"

I nodded, still blotting my face with the paper towels.

"I got you a bandanna." He reached in the bag and pulled out a purple scarf which I swiftly tied around my neck and mouth. "Let's get out of here."

We stepped out of the apartment and Mark pushed me into the passenger's seat of an old beat up jalopy. He got in the driver's seat and soon we were off on another adventure.

**A/N Evilquail wrote this chapter. I'll be writing the next one though! :D Anyways, it took such a long time because Evilquail got sick, and didn't send me the chapter.**

**Evilquail: I had to mime for three days cause I lost my voice... Kurai found that quite amusing. **

**Kurai: Irony... HA!! I was afraid everyone was dying... So many people went home sick last week... **

**Evilquail: It's a dead man's party! Who could ask for more? Everybody's coming leave your body at the door! **

**Kurai: Ok, ok we get the point. Please review! We appreciate your time! **

**Evilquail: Toodaloo old chap and salutations to your accordian! **


	6. Chapter 5

**We don't own the Dark Knight or Gotham City. Or the Joker. But we wish we did. Because that would be SWEET! **

**Chapter 5**

The Fifth Grenade

"So… uh… have you decided what type of costume you're going to be wearing?" I glanced at him, not able to respond. He nodded and tossed a crumbled up piece of paper and rusty pen into my lap. I picked them up and swiftly unwrapped the paper to discover some random theorems and formulas scribbled across it. Little smiles dotted the edge of the paper. I worked hard to find an open place to write a single word across.

"_Mime_," I wrote, and shoved it in Mark's face, causing the car to swerve a bit. Neither of us flinched.

"A mime…?" He muttered under his breath. There was a moment of silence as he considered it. I stared at him with the corners of my eyes. Then he laughed. It wasn't a crazy, psychotic laugh that would have come from the Joker, or me. Just a normal laugh. He enjoyed the idea.

"I like it!" He laughed. "Y'know… maybe you can go places kid. Maybe."

I glared at him for calling me a kid, but didn't feel the need for my hand to dart at the grenade I had replaced the used one with, in my pocket. Strangely enough.

"I know just the place…" I shrugged and let him to the deciding. It wasn't like I had any idea where I was.

"So… you were the cause for that explosion earlier, I'm assuming?"

I shrugged and nodded. He nodded, not surprised in the least. I grabbed the paper back from Mark's lap. "_Where are we going?" _I wrote.

"Costume shop downtown. As long as your face is covered up, you should be fine…" He replied. I shrugged and sat back, slightly bored. It was sunny, and a few clouds speckled the outline of the towering sky scrapers we wove between, like concrete trees.

I growled a bit after being stuck in the car for the first half hour. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I narrowed my eyes and turned to look at him, a few strands of tangled blond hair in my face, slightly blocking my line of sight.

He shook his head in disbelief and looked back out the front of the car, mumbling something under his breath about attracting all the psychos of Gotham City. I grinned a bit at this, but stopped myself at the feeling of the scars cracking beneath the purple bandana.

Finally, Mark pulled over and got out of the car. I sat up, as I had been slouching in the car seat, and straightened out the slipping bandana. Mark tapped loudly on the window and I opened the car door and jumped out, leaving it open for him to close. It slammed behind me and his footsteps pound on the cement as he ran to keep up with me.

"The place is right up here…" He said, stepping in front of me to swerve our path. He walked towards a door with a huge sign above it.

Jack's Costumes

I stared at the sign but quickly walked inside behind Mark.

The place was basically a hole in the wall type of place. The walls and floor were filthy, there were only one or two people there, and they were dirty as the shop.

But the costumes were amazing, and I could see why Mark had brought me here. There was a huge selection of clown related items, as well as joke items. Mark must have picked up supplies for my father here when he was still alive.

And sure enough, on the other side of the store from where I stood, was a box filled to the brim with the same brand of whoopie cushions that had been given to me by my father. I start to walk over to them, but the manager yells out to the two of us.

"Can I help you?" He asked from the counter. I glanced at Mark, hoping he remembered that I couldn't talk.

"We need a costume," Mark said. I touched my head with my hand and the manager rolled his eyes.

"…right," He replied. "This _is _a costume shop. Care to be specific?"

"She's being a mime for a costume party next week," He says. "She'll need a mask… and a wig."

He nodded, and stepped around the counter. "Why don't you two look through the wigs, and I'll look in the back for a mask."

Mark nodded and the two of us walked over to where stacks and stacks of wigs were. I started looking through some normal ones, that sort of resembled the way my hair already looked, but Mark immediately started searching through the weirdest ones in the place.

The first one he showed me had me choking at the thought of ever wearing it. It was an outrageous rainbow afro that was three times the size of my head. I grabbed the wig out of his hand and threw it as hard as possible at the other side of the store. It barely missed a man who was looking at some dresses.

I spun back around to look at Mark, who was looking at me with surprised, wide eyes. His mouth had dropped open a little.

"What was that?!" He asked incredulously. My eyes narrowed and I stared at him threateningly. He crossed his arms and turned back to the racks. "I thought that wig was perfect."

I shook my head frantically and continued to scan through the choices. I pulled out a brown wig that would fall to my shoulders and showed it to him.

"That's boring." My eyes narrowed, as he pulled out the wig he had been examining. This time, it was a plain red color that looked pretty normal, until he made it stand up straight. There was a huge, foot tall, Mohawk sticking out of the top of it.

I made a writing motion with my hand, then held out my palm. He pulled a permanent marker out of his pocket and tossed it into my open hand. I caught it, and immediately started writing four words madly, all in capital letters, on my palm.

"_I AM A GIRL!_" I showed it to him with such force it would have been a screech if said out loud.

"Fine, fine, I get it…" Mark replied. Just then, the rainbow afro cut in between us. I glanced at who was holding it, and saw it was the man who it had almost hit when I had thrown it earlier. I jumped back to let him pass.

"Thanks!"

My mouth dropped open. Why did this guy had such a high pitched voice? It was almost like he was…

"Are you a transvestite?" My eyes shot to Mark, who had just spoken.

"Yeah!" The 'guy' said. "Name's Dawn! How about you?"

"I'm Mark."

Dawn turned to look at me. "What's your name?"

I looked at Mark, and raised my hand in greeting. Dawn stared at my hand, and laughed, reading the words I had written to Mark minutes ago.

"Yes, I can see you're a girl!" I dropped my hand quickly, embarrassed.

"Her name's Allison. You'll have to excuse her, she's… mute at the moment."

"Oh! It's totally fine!" She said. "So what brings you here today?"

"Allison is going to be mime to a costume party…" Mark said. He glanced at me quickly, and I knew he was planning something. I continued to look through the wigs, as the two talked.

"Oh that sounds fun!"

"Yep. The manager is in the back looking for a mask…"

"I'm sure he'll find something good! He always finds me the best stuff!"

"Come to think of it, Allison is going to be a… a _knight _for a party later this month. Maybe you could help her out a bit… Help her get in character?"

Dawn's face lit up as mine fell. What was he _thinking_?! I stared pointedly at Mark, then Dawn, then pointed at my face, hidden by the scarf. He waved his hand a bit, telling me to calm down.

"Of course I'll help! Wow this is going to be so much fun! I can show you how to walk, and talk! We can play sports and games together! And eat greasy food!"

I stared, open mouth- not that anyone could tell- at Dawn. Why exactly was she a cross dresser? She was the girliest girl I had ever met. Mark seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Hey, you two!" The manager finally called. "Why don't you come try this mask on?"

"Allison, go check out the mask," Mark said. I stared at him. "Don't worry, I'll pick out a good wig! Dawn will help me, right?"

"Of course!" Dawn exclaimed. I nodded, and walked over to see the mask the manager had brought.

The face of the mask was a pasty white. The piercing eyes were bulged out as if it was staring in the face of death itself. The mouth was drawn on as a smile, a tiny pair of bright red lips encasing only part of the slim line drawn to distinguish the lips. A thick, circle was drawn on each cheek. I looked it over one more time before making up my mind. It was perfect.

I took it from him, and lowered my head slowly, so I could slide the mask on without him seeing.

"Allison, how about this one?!" Mark called.

"It's so cute!" Dawn squealed. I raised my head to turn around to see it, my hand still on the scarf tied around my neck.

Before I could stop myself, the scarf slipped from my face. My face snapped around to stare at the manager. In that fraction of a second, I wished so hard that the manager hadn't seen my face. But when I looked into his eyes, and saw them widen in fear, the narrow in understanding, I knew they were in vain.

"You…" He whispered, staring at me. I stared back, and pulled the mask out of his hand and swiftly shoved the bandanna back over my cheeks, then turned to walk back to where Dawn and Mark were standing.

"I'm calling the cops!" He hissed to me. Mark suddenly looked up at me, eyes wide.

"There's no need for that…" Mark told the man.

"I'm going to call the cops. You just wait." Mark shrugged anxiously, and I didn't even turn to see the manager. I could already feel the anger taking over my mind.

"Right… Allison, you know what to do," Mark said, glancing at my pocket containing the grenade.

I nodded.

Dawn was still smiling, looking at the three of us, blissfully unaware of the unfolding events.

"Dawn, let's go…" Mark said, leading her out the door.

"Mark…" I whispered, barely opening my lips. He looked back at me, and threw the mask to him. "Good?"

He glanced at it. "Yeah, it's perfect. I'll meet you in the car."

I nodded, and he and Dawn disappeared out the door. I glanced around, to make sure the one or two other customers were gone, and they were. It was just me and the manager.

Who needed to die.

"What are y-?!" He was cut off as I threw a punch at him in the face so hard it made him fall to the ground. I stepped on the back of his face, shoving it into the dirty, cement tile.

"_You never saw me here_!" I hissed. My scabs cracked, but I didn't care at the moment. The metallic taste excited me, as I shoved his face harder into the ground. I laughed so hard, I had to gasp for air.

"Y-you're crazy!" He cried, once my foot left the back of his face.

"_Ha, ha! What gave you the hint?_" I shouted, nudging his side with my foot, as if he was a cockroach.

"Who the hell are you?!"

"_It doesn't matter…_" I said. I could feel the purple scarf getting wet from the blood. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a pile of colored scarves. I grabbed one, pulled the bloody, purple one off, replacing it with a black one. Then I used the purple one to bind the manager's hands.

"You're going to get caught…" He growled angrily. "The cops… are gonna throw you in jail!"

I laughed. "_What makes you think that?_"

"The Joker will find you, even if the cop's don't. He'll keep you in line."

My eyes narrowed as I bent down to whisper in his ear. "_The Joker's dead. I'm taking over this city_."

And with those words, I walked from the shop, pulling the plug of a grenade as I went.

Once I was standing safely just outside the door, I tossed it inside, towards the manager, who was still on the floor.

I calmly walked away towards the car, where Dawn and Mark were waiting. Dawn was a little fazed, while Mark slouched lazily in the passenger's seat of the car. I walked to the driver's seat, and jumped in, ignoring the fact I had barely learned to drive.

We drove away, and I saw the flames in the rear view mirror.

Joy.

**A/N I wrote this chapter! YAY!**

**Evilquail: i'm sad. **

**Kurai: Why?**

**Evilquail: Cause nobody saw my SPECIAL surprise last chapter! **

**Kurai: What are you talking about Quails? i'm scared. **

**Evilquail: The bloody pencil? It was supposed to be a shout out to the "magic" trick but no one noticed it!**

**Kurai: Oh yeah! Omg I was suprised no one mentioned it! You should all apologize! On second thought, check out her deviant art account, to make up for not noticing! **http://**littlejackie**.**deviantart**.com/ **is the link! She's got a painting up and some other cool stuff. You could look at my account too, but it sucks, so i don't recomend it. **

**Evilquail: There's some M-rated stuff on there dear children, and it might rot your brains or cause you to go into terrible bouts of agonizing screaming. **

**Kurai: Let's move on...**

**Evilquail: LEGS! okay, that's all i'm going to say...**

**Kurai: SHUT UP!**

**Evilquail: hehahohahhehaho... Todaloo old chap and salutations to your boomerang.**


	7. Chapter 6

**WARNING! This chapter has some veeeeery colorful language. Beware!!**

**Chapter 6**

**The Sixth Grenade**

_The night air possessed a bitter cold as the car plummeted down the highway, towards freedom. The man in the driver's seat was laughing, although the situation he was in was far from funny. The cops eventually came to a stop behind him as they slowly realized that they would never be able to catch him. They would never be able to catch the Joker._

_::::::::::_

As I sped down the Gotham City Freeway, I felt a surge of freedom and adrenaline rush through my veins. I felt so… ALIVE.

Mark held on to his seat tightly as we approached 90 mph.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" He panted, readjusting his grip on the leather seat.

I nodded.

"Where… what just happened?" Dawn's voice betrayed her terror.

"Uh…" Mark stuttered as he tried to come up with a convincing story, "Allison saw a grenade in the back of the store, hidden among the wigs. We managed to get you out and were about to leave when she realized that the manager was in the store as well. She tried to save him but it was too late."

"Oh." Dawn was suspicious but she had no choice but to believe Mark, "Anyways, where are we going?"

"To my apartment. So you can give Allison a lesson, if that's alright with you."

Dawn smiled, the anxiousness now completely wiped from her face, "Sounds good to me! I'm so excited! This will be really fun!"

Mark and I exchanged glances. This would be interesting.

::::::::::

The anxiety attack came later than usual. By the time my actions caught up with me, I was back at the apartment, sitting in across the table from Mark. Dawn was asleep on the couch a few yards away, so Mark and I were discussing what to do next. He spoke, and I wrote on the table itself with a pen provided. It came out of nowhere.

My hands just started to shiver like it was freezing, then my arms, and before I knew it, my entire body was convulsing, tears streaming down my face. Blood poured from my face, causing the newly stolen black scarf to get drenched again.

I groaned a bit. The loss of blood today was making me dazed.

Mark sighed and stood up to get some bandages from the other room, slugging around lazily. I took the black scarf off and threw it across the room, over the couch. The tip of it hit Dawn, causing her to stir a bit. I slumped into the chair and rubbed a bit of blood off with my hands. Some of it dripped onto my unfinished message on the table.

Mark then returned and started washing the blood off my face so he could cleanly bandage the wounds.

I wrote, "_Why bring that trans bitch back here?"_

Mark didn't look at me. "She's gonna teach you how to be a man."

I raised my eyebrows and looked pointedly at Dawn, still blissfully unaware as she slept.

He shrugged. "You find the best teachers in the strangest of places."

My lip twitched, not liking the idea of involving more people. Things had already become complicated enough with just Mark. I felt my eyes burn irately as I remembered how Mark had stolen to suit, making taking over for my father impossible, for the moment.

"So…" Mark barked out, once he had taken his seat across from me once more. "You should probably get to work on that Mime costume, huh?"

"_Show me the wig." _I wrote. He nodded and grabbed the wig off a wobbly side table behind the couch. I looked at it for a second, then grabbed it and walked out of the room.

::::::::::

I spent over twenty four hours in that apartment. Mark never bothered me, not even to bring food or water. If there was anything good about the guy, it was that he understood the way _artists _work. No interruptions. No sense of time.

So when I finally left my father's apartment over a day later. Mark looked up at me as if I was crazy.

"So where's the costume?" He asked. I motioned for a pen, and he tossed me one.

I wrote on my hand, "_I need a gun holder._"

"Why? Can't you just carry a grenade or two around like you have been? Or a knife? You're father always liked knifes…"

"_I don't want the fucking knife," _I wrote. _"You said it yourself. I'm not ready to be the Joker._"

Mark scratched the back of his head, eyes narrow. "What type of gun are we talking about?"

My hand didn't have any more room so I grabbed an old paper plate and wrote on that.

"_Machine_."

"You want a machine gun?!" He cried. "Holy shit, kid, you _really _aren't ready for that."

There was a long moment of silence as Mark rubbed his hands down his face, waiting for me to respond. And I just stared at Mark.

"_Just get me the gun._"

::::::::::

A few hours later, Mark knocked on the door to my father's apartment. I didn't respond, and he let himself in. I walked out of the bedroom where I had been working, and saw mark placing a few things on the table.

"Alright, Allison. I got you your gun. I don't know how the hell you're gonna use it, but here it is. I also got you the gun holder you wanted. Top class. Holds ammo and everything. It's leather. It'll hold up."

I nodded and didn't touch them as Mark turned around to leave. I threw a newspaper at him.

"Ow-What?" I motioned my head for him to follow me, then turned around.

:::::::::

When Mark saw the costume for the first time, his eyes grew the size of dinner plates. He stumbled backwards, trying in vain to make sense of the many strips of random black and white material sewn together into a tight fitting suit.

"Well?" I hissed, trying to knock him out of his trance.

"It… it's… perfect. Where… where did you get the idea for this?"

"_Like father like daughter."_ I wrote on my hand.

Mark sighed, defeated. "Well you certainly have his creativity. He came up with the idea for the suit, you know. You two are pretty alike. If only he could see you…"

_Crash. _

Mark jumped up and ran into his adjoining apartment, from which the sound had come from. There was a moment of indistinct chatter and as quickly as he had left, Mark walked back in the room.

"Dawn woke up," He sighed, "She wants to start your lessons now."

"_I'll come in a few minutes." _I scrawled on my hand, pushing him out the door.

Once he was gone again, I took the time to take a long look at my new costume. It was completely made up of strips of netting, vinyl, and other black and white fabrics and materials in various shapes and sizes. Around the belly was a strip of fishnet, like the kind found in kinky tights that you can buy at the dollar store. It was form fitting, yet not slutty and revealing as many other female costumes were, and it covered me in all of the places that I was rather self conscious of. The matching gloves (which I had found at the bottom of a dresser drawer in my father's apartment) were thick black suede and could protect my hands from knives, glass, and best of all-fingerprint analysis. I knew it would work and I almost thought it was…

"ALLISON!" Mark yelled from the other room, startling me.

I quickly hid the costume in a closet, tied the bandanna around my lips, and ran back to Mark's living room, ready to begin my unconventional lessons.

::::::::::

"So your first lesson will be on talking like a guy!" Dawn piped. "Now I normally don't talk like this because it gets tedious after a while, but Mark said that you really wanted to get into character."

Speaking of Mark, where _was _he? He had just disappeared without a word, without telling me where he was going or when he would be back. I would have to get him back later. I sighed and turned my attention back to my new… instructor.

"Now the first thing you want to do is lower your voice and slur a bit- as men seem to drink more than men. This may sound easy but it really isn't. Many girls think they can do this but they cannot. It's a special skill- one which only a lucky few of us have. Hopefully you will have it too. Now let me here what you can do."

"_What should I say?" _I scrawled on my hand.

"Oh I forgot that you can't talk… maybe tomorrow we could…"

"_It's fine."_

"Well then maybe you should say something which pertains to your character… something knightly, if you know what I mean."

I opened my mouth and using Dawn's technique, said the first thing that came to mind, in a low raspy voice. "I… am the DARK… the dark knight. The true… true JUSTICE amidst the squalor… and filth. I… may be an animal… but some… but some day you will grow to see my… true colors… of change_._"

Dawn just stared.

"_How did I do?" _I hastily wrote.

"Wow."

"_I was that bad?"_

"You were amazing!" Dawn squealed, "You sounded exactly like a guy! Where did you learn to do that?"

I shrugged.

"You almost sounded like… no that can't be right" She looked down at the ratty carpet, befuddled.

"_What?"_ I shoved my palm into her face.

"I've heard… that voice before, on TV or something…"

I panicked. I should have killed Dawn right then and there, before she got too suspicious. But I knew I couldn't. I needed lessons and I needed the suit which I knew was somewhere in the apartment. Using a grenade would do no good at all. I decided to improvise my way through the situation and try and blow it off.

Thankfully, Dawn laughed before I could say anything, "But I doubt that's the case. What would a young girl like you be doing all over the news? I must have had too much coffee this morning. Well let's move on and start your next lesson on mannerisms. Each man has different mannerisms. They can help you determine personality. Every man is different. Some have tough mannerisms, some seem wimpy, and some are just plain… strange. However, sometimes the mannerisms can be misleading. When you see a man striding down the street with his chest puffed out and his legs far apart, you may come to believe he is tough, manly, and strong. However this is usually not the case. This man is one of the weakest of them all and he is simply attempting to shield his sweet and sensitive personality with hard words and long strides. They only show their true selves in the most life threatening and dangerous situations. These men are simply trying to fit in to the tough guy stereotype, which to be a successful man, you need to be able to overlook and overcome. The "wimpy" men on the other hand, the ones that walk around with their hands in their pockets and their head hung low, are much tougher than the female sex has come to believe. They are not willing to bow down to the typical media endorsed version of a perfect male. However they are not the strongest men out there. By far the toughest men in reality are the ones rejected by society and their female counterparts as outcasts or freaks. The ones with distinctly unique mannerisms. These men neither abide by nor care about the media nor does any influence besides the ones that they create themselves. These are the most dangerous of men as they are highly unpredictable and have no sense of moral justice and values. Other men of the two previous varieties respect and leave these men alone, while they are harassed by women who do not understand their true character."

I was confused. It didn't seem completely accurate. How could Dawn give these three untarnished perfect personas to every single man alive?

"Of course I may not be right," she shrugged, noticing my confusion, "After all; I'm not _really_ a guy. Although I wish I was!"

I felt bad that the male sex had to put up with bizarre goons such as my cross dressing friend.

"Anyways," Dawn sighed, "My point is that every man has his own mannerisms and ways of speaking, walking, and living. They depend from man to man and no man is alike. The best thing for you to do would probably be to watch someone who you think is like the man or men that you want to portray and attempt to follow their gestures."

I made a mental note of that last piece of information. I could watch tapes of my father to get the act down perfectly. After all, he _was_ everywhere.

At that moment, Mark walked through the door.

::::::::::::

Where had he been? Why hadn't he told me where he had gone? Could I trust him if he was so secretive? I had so many questions to ask him, but before I could open my mouth, he had opened his.

"So Dawn," He sighed, playing with his car keys, "Are you ready to go? I've got the car ready."

"But we just started our lessons!"

"You can come back tomorrow if you want. Allison would love any advice you have."

"Sounds good!"

Dawn followed Mark out the door, and I found myself alone once again. I looked towards the room in which my costume was being stored. It couldn't hurt…

:::::::::::::

The mafia loved gambling. Not penny slots and dime machines, but betting millions on games of poker and cards. The leaders of the group often would waste weeks frolicking in Las Vegas or Monaco. They were wealthy and liked to flaunt it.

The interior of the casino was warm and opulent. It wasn't the dark shady gambling and prostitution den that the hit men and assassins used to place bets on their meager paychecks, but an inviting and wealthy place for only the most exclusive tourists and CEO's. The security was low and it was almost amusing how easily a petty criminal could make his way in without anyone noticing.

I put my mask on and smoothed the scratchy wig down over my forehead. I was ready.

I rudely shoved the door open and created several holes in the ceiling with my new machine gun to get everyone's attention. The crowd quickly gave me room and I walked around, admiring the terrified crowd of obviously unprepared aristocrats and unarmed tycoons.

"Who… who are you?" A wealthy woman trembled in the corner, clutching her shiny purse.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't speak and therefore risk my identity. I was about to shoot her when I came across a brilliant idea. I shot my stage name into a wall. _Mimi._

"What… what do you want?" a man under a table cried.

I shot a sloppy word into the polished linoleum floor. _Batman. _

"He's… not here! He will find you! He will make you pay!"

I was tired of this man and the rest of the patrons in the casino. These people weren't the mafia I had hoped for but I needed to maintain my reputation. I threw the grenade from my pocket and sprinted out.

::::::::::

When I got back to Mark's apartment, I was sweaty and dirty. I quickly turned on the news, which was reporting frantically on Gotham's newest villain.

"Who is this new villain? What does the Batman have to say? Does she have relations with the Joker?" The news caster went on and on.

People in this town were just so… _stupid._ Why couldn't they understand that my father's crimes, my crimes, were invigorating and exciting? I felt like a drug addict, tasting the delicious substance of my desire for the first time, already longing for more.

I wanted more. I wanted to be him. I wanted to be the Joker.

I suddenly heard the door open. Mark walked in exhausted and plopped himself down on the couch and closed his eyes.

I already had it all planned out.

"I have a question… question for… YOU." I was trying out my new voice, and judging by Mark's newfound involuntary twitches, I could tell it was working.

"What is it… boss?" Mark rolled over, forgetting in his exhaustion that my father was long dead.

"Why… are you… why are you still here? With me?"

"I have nowhere else to go." Mark sighed, "You know that. You said it yourself. I started this gang with you, Jack, and I intend to finish it with you."

"Really?" I had jumped back to my normal voice.

Mark bolt upright, realizing his mistake at once. "Allison?"

I giggled.

"Damn girl, you've really got it down."

**A/N Omg, I am sooooo sorry this took so long! It has been a really overly hectic couple of weeks. First, I didn't feel like writing over the weekend. Then, there was a week of some really screwed up group drama and some hospital visits and therapy sessions for some of us (looks at evilquail) . Then, spring break. Then last week I once again didn't feel like writing. But we finally finished, and the credit goes to both of us, but mostly Evilquail, because she wrote most of it. I had no clue what to do for the lessons. It was pretty long. **

**Evilquail: Yep. Kurai wrote um like about the equivalent of two pages (it's like seven pages long). **

**Kurai: Yeeeah so I did something at least... Anyways, that's all we've got to say about the actual writing. I have a bit of a request. It's kind of hypocritical. Evilquail is atheist, and I'm agnostic. Basically, I would like you to keep me, Evilquail and all our friends and family in your prayers, if you pray. We're all having some issues right now, so please be thinking of us. **

**Evilquail: I'm not going to say exactly what's going on but it has to do with cancer, jobs, friends, depression, emotion breakdowns, breakups, dementia, and insanity. I'm trying to stay positive but it's giving some people the wrong message as I've turned rather violent... with a smile.**

**Kurai: Thanks everyone!**


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**The Seventh Grenade**

Twelve O'clock PM.

Silence.

One O'clock.

Silence.

Two O'clock.

Four men clad in black and white clothes made their way down Main Street. One after another stepped out from the shadows in alley ways. They didn't look at each other. They didn't talk to each other. They just inconspicuously blended into the crowd.

But the unsuspecting people, of Gotham City's elite businesses, had no idea that each of these men was armed with a gun. And little did they know their leader was nothing they had ever expected before.

::::::::::

I watched my men walk across the street, into the bank. I raised and shook my hands quickly, trying to imagine how my father would react to this situation.

I breathed out slowly.

_Excitement. _

::::::::::

The huge clock above the bank chimed three o'clock. The sound echoed across the street, causing a few business people to start running, suddenly realizing how late it was. The chatter and beeping of horns on the street picked up more by the second.

But still, even with all the noise outside, not a single person failed to hear the gun shots coming from the Gotham Central Bank.

Inside, the machine guns' bullets bounced off the walls, ricocheting dangerously close to the shooters themselves. But none of them hit. A few screams echoed through the silenced building as a bit of blood spattered the walls and floors. A few people made their way towards the door of the bank, and stared in through the shining clean glass doors.

Three of the men dressed in black pointed their guns outside the bank at the onlookers. They gasped and scurried away, to call the cops. Within minutes, sirens are heard throughout the city, as police cars made their way through the street that become more and more crowded.

Then the news crews arrived.

"We're here at Gotham Central Bank, with live coverage of a bank heist going on as we speak," The newscaster said. "Just ten minutes ago, a group of men entered the bank and started firing rapidly. It is unknown how many are wounded and/or killed."

The crowd strained for a view as the woman continued speaking.

"It is also unknown at this time whether the leader of these men is the Joker or not. So far, it cannot be discovered, as the men are not wearing their signature clown masks that all of Gotham knows them for. Who could these people be?"

They switched to someone back in the studio discussing it, while the newscaster was quietly informed. A TV set that had been brought in played the broadcaster from the studio.

"_Do you think this could have something to do with the attack in down town Gotham two weeks ago or the suburban house blown up the day after that?" _A man asked a crime inspector.

"_It's possible, I suppose," _The woman replied. _"There is no evidence of any of these attacks being connected so far, however. It could be any combination of involving the Joker, or not involving him."_

"_We've just received news from the scene. Back to you, Sarah." _The man said to the camera. The image switched back to the scene.

"We've just received a message from inside the building. We'll play the video we received now."

A amateur film began to play, on almost every TV in Gotham City.

Including Bruce Wayne's.

:::::::::::

Hours earlier, I stood ready in my costume, Mark held the camera with one hand, a bored look on his face.

Mark put his thumb up, and pressed the record button. Another henchman played music off an old tape player. Beatles music echoed through the room. I scurried off the screen quickly and waited for my cue.

I was completely decked out in my finished costume. My dirty blond wig had two messy pigtail buns, one on each side of my head. One was obscured by a black top hat I wore over one of them. My mask covered my entire face, and the pasty white paint of it glinted in the dim light of the room. The costume itself was entirely black and white. Dots and stripes randomly stitched together complicatedly covered my entire body from my neck to my knees, where white leather boots stretched down to my feet.

My masterpiece.

I slowly stepped in front of the camera and began to dance. My body swayed in time to the strange tempo of "Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite" as I slowly started to do classic mime positions- the box, the rope, and the walk the dog; all of which I had looked up on Mark's computer prior to the filming. The dance gradually shifted into a more modern form, somewhere between jazz and ballet- both of which I had taken in elementary school.

When the machines started instrumental section of the circus theme song, I grabbed some signs off the floor where they had been laying, small index cards hastily written out in black ink. I shoved them in front of the camera, one by one so that the world could see what was written on them.

_My name is Mimi. _

_I am a mime. _

_I cannot speak. _

_I am the mastermind behind tonight's robbery. _

_Not the Joker. He was not here. _

_He knows of me already. _

_But will do nothing to stop me. _

_I want the Batman. _

_I want him to take off his mask. _

_For the world. _

_NOW. _

_If he doesn't. _

_Someone will not wake up tomorrow. _

_Just remember that, BATMAN. _

I dropped the cards to the floor and proceeded to dance.

After Mark turned off the camera, I resumed my normal stance. We watched the video that had just been made twice, once to enjoy it and once to make sure there was no evidence of my true identity. There wasn't. I was perfectly concealed.

Mark instructed the other henchman to take the tape to the studio at 3:10 P.M. The goon nodded apprehensively, grabbed the tape, and ran out the door.

I was finally able to take off my mask and wig. I handed them to Mark and proceeded to collapse on his couch, still in full regalia, to get some sleep before the big heist.

::::::::::

"_This video is certainly disturbing. All we can wonder now, is what will Batman do?_" The announcer on Bruce Wayne's TV said.

As the light outside dimmed into night, Bruce Wayne took action.

::::::::::

The adrenaline hadn't stopped pulsing through me for hours. The gun was weighing down in my hand, and I relaxed, and shot a few rounds against the walls. Screams echoed from outside.

"Al-Mimi," Mark said. "It's getting dark."

I nodded. _Good. _

::::::::::

"Oh, no!" Dawn said to herself, watching TV. "That's the bank Allison and Mark were going to! I hope they're ok!"

"_We have live footage!_" The newscaster said. "_Someone is approaching the doors!"_

The TV showed the SWAT team pointing guns at the doors of the bank. Then, the person from the movie appeared. Mimi. She had a hostage in her hands, in front of her, keeping the people from shooting.

She held up a sign.

_I want Batman. _The sign dropped from her hand and she slowly backed up.

"Hm…" Dawn said, randomly speaking to herself again. "That mask and wig looks familiar…"

:::::::::

The power in the bank turned off suddenly, and the only light was the reflected from the cars and camera crews outside.

I heard Mark straighten up a little behind me, and I let go of the hostage roughly, pushing the man away towards some of my men. I fingered the gun again, and readjusted the mask, which had little ventilation. Sweat was pouring down my face, and my costume was getting soaked.

Nothing happened. Deciding to take action, I pointed at some of my men, who immediately straightened up at me. I made some shooting motions with my hands, and they got the message. More shots echoed through the bank, followed by a few stifled cries.

"Watch it…!" Mark shouted suddenly. I darted away from my current position, just as a dark figure came falling down. I popped my two guns out and gracefully aimed at the figure.

But the motion and the darkness threw off my vision, and the figure disappeared before I could shoot. I narrowed my eyes and cocked the right gun, then the left. The click echoed threateningly across the large room. I heard a few whimpers come from the hostages.

"Batman… oh my God…" Someone whispered. "It's _Batman_!"

I turned around and darted around the room quickly, until I was standing beside a dazed looking Mark. I prodded him in the back with the gun, and when he turned around I pointed up, towards the darkened lights. He nodded, then walked out of the room faster than I have ever seen him move. There was silence as I crouched low to the ground and waited for the lights to turn on, or Batman to make his move.

The lights switched on, revealed a dark shape on the ceiling. I raised a hand, and waved nonchalantly in jerky motions. He crashed into the floor in front of me, and I took a step forward, gun poised.

"Mimi…" Batman's raspy voice came. "Give it up. You can't win."

I felt my feet move together, so they were side by side, and raised my hands into an awkward shrug. Then, I lowered my arms, and poised the guns to shoot once again. He moved quickly in front of me and threw a punch out, but I squatted back down, and hit his leg roughly with the gun. He seemed unfazed, as his hand went for my head, to grab the mask. My back straightened as I darted backward, and grabbed a hostage by his neck. I shoved the gun towards the hostage's body, so it was parallel with his left shoulder, gazing at Batman ever quietly.

Time froze for a fraction of a second, as Batman silently pondered what to do.

I got bored quickly, and poked the hostage's head with the gun a few times. I tapped my foot on the floor, so an alarmingly intimidating beat rang through the quiet room.

Batman stared at me through his mask.

I stared back through mine.

::::::::::

"We have news that Batman is inside the building!" The news woman said outside, causing cries of mixed joy and grief to ring throughout the crowd.

The streets seemed to brighten as news of the Dark Knight once again coming to Gotham's rescue rang throughout the city.

::::::::::

Patty Napier silently turned off the television, and retired to her bed room. There was no point in watching this. She was safe where she was, and it would be all over the news tomorrow.

She should sleep before another day of empty searching.

::::::::::

Back in the city, beside the bank, a speeding white truck forced the crowd to part, like a boat through water. It approached the bank, and rode onto the sidewalk, maneuvering between every single news crew, and camera, and crashing into the glass doors of the bank.

::::::::::

CRASH!

Mark jumped out of the familiar white truck right on time. I poked the hostage's head again, and motioned for the rest of my men to each grab a hostage as well.

I turned back around, and Batman was gone. Under the mask, I smiled slightly, not enough to draw blood. I climbed into the truck, followed by my men and a couple hostages.

Once they were loaded into the truck, and were tied, and bound so there would be no struggle, Mark started pointing guns the hostages, while I silently watched from the other side of the car. The car started to move quickly, through the crowd once more. People reared away as they were threatened from my men hanging halfway out the window with guns.

"Hey!" He rasped, pointing the gun point at a middle aged woman with graying hair. "What's your name?!"

"A-Annette Coyote…" She muttered. She had an annoying southern accent.

"Occupation?" Mark asked quickly.

"W-what?"

"What. Is. Your. Job?!" He said slowly, his gun prodding her forehead.

"I'm a substitute teacher…" She gulped. Mark glanced over at me, and I shrugged, not really caring. He nodded and pulled the trigger.

The sound of the gun rang throughout the truck.

The other hostages screamed a little, but were silenced when Mark pointed the gun at another man.

Suddenly, I heard a noise from behind us. I looked out the rearview window and sure enough I was face to face with the Batman.

::::::::::

Batman stared at the unmarked white truck through his windshield. There was something about this girl… something familiar. It felt as if he had fought her before. He just couldn't put his finger when. Was it the jerky motions, the horrible quality of the video, or her odd stance… she seemed just like…

Batman shook his head, defeated by his own ideas. This Mimi was clearly a woman. The Joker was a man. The Joker allied with no one.

He sighed and slowly realized that she must be one of the many Joker copy cats looming in the back allies and side streets of Gotham at night. He would defeat her. He would bring her to justice. He was the Dark Knight.

::::::::::

Frank Floyd, the head reporter of the _Gotham Times_ was one of the last to arrive on the scene unfolding in the bank. He had been reporting on the importance of spaying and neutering pets when he received an urgent call from one of his assistants.

He was three miles away.

He sped down the freeway at top speed to report the terrifying series of events taking place. The free way was empty, people steering clear of the road in fear that the heist would turn into a car chase.

These people were smart. Frank was not.

Suddenly Frank noticed two speeding objects, hurdling down the highway going at least 120 MPH. He didn't even have time to say goodbye.

::::::::::

I rammed into the news truck with astonishing speed. The smaller car was badly damaged as I used the front end of my heavier and stronger truck to shove it off the bridge in front of me. I looked out the window to see how I was doing.

The Batman was catching up.

I slammed my foot on the brake.

Mark yelped in surprise, accidentally pulling the trigger on his gun and killing one of the hostages. "What are you doing?!"

I shrugged. I was crazy. And I was proud.

::::::::::

Batman didn't have time to react to his opponent's odd move. His car was thrown over hers, violently crashing into the ground. The last thing he saw before passing out was the slightly damaged white truck turning around and speeding away.

::::::::::

Mark stared at me with a mixture of disbelief and amazement.

"How did you do that?" He muttered. "Of all the psychos in Gotham…"

I nodded. I was pleased with myself.

As we vanished into the veil of night, I threw the grenade behind me.

Number seven.

**A/N Hi everyone!!! It once again was my procrastination issues that made this chapter take so long!**

**Evilquail: Yeah, so it's all Kurai's fault. So you can chase her with a can of red spraypaint.**

**Kurai: Why spraypaint?**

**Evilquail: Because you're gonna be a part of my new artistic creation!!!!**

**Kurai: -inches away slowly-**

**Evilquail: Rock a party like nobody can Rules and regulations - no place in his nation!!! Partyman, Partyman!**

**Kurai: You are so the 1989 Joker.......**

**Evilquail: Oh shoot its time for dance class!! Gotta go! Toodaloo old chap and salutations to your cinnamon bun!**

**Kurai: Buh-bye! review Please!!**

**Disclaimor: Evilquail and Kurai-chan OWN NOTHING!!!!! They don't even own the hair on their heads because they sold every single one to pay for their bail. Have a nice day!!! xD**


	9. Chapter 8

**25 Grenades**

**Chapter 8**

The darkness seeped into the small apartment that Mark Jamison called home. He lay down on the dirty plaid couch and closed his eyes. He was tired and quickly drifted into his dreamland.

::::::::::

_The man's face was covered by a hood, obscured from my line of focus. _

"_What do ya want?" I growled, suspicious of this new customer. I didn't trust anyone new. With my line of work, I couldn't afford to. _

_I was a drug dealer. In the business since age 15, I had nearly forgotten what it was to live a normal life. Not that I had ever had one…_

"_What do you have?" _

_This man was obviously well educated, yet there was something in his tone, something that made me understand. He wasn't a cop. He needed to get away from something… Something terrible. _

"_LSD… It lets you hallucinate…" I grabbed a small package of powder from my cargo pocket. _

"_Yeah, that will work." The man gestured to the wallet in his hand. "How much?" _

_I sighed. I normally duped the rookie customers into paying more than the drugs were actually worth. But today, I decided not to. I felt pity for this man. I felt pity for Jack Napier. _

_:::::::::: _

Mark woke up for a start. He hadn't thought about that part of his past for a long time, ever since Jack died. Ever since the Joker took his place. The memories were hard for him to bear; he didn't want to watch his life play out in front of him. It just wasn't something he wanted to relive.

The man rolled over and checked the battered electric clock on the side table beside him.

3:26 AM

Mark knew he had to get some more sleep. Allison was planning another heist and he was involved. He closed his eyes and attempted to sleep once again.

::::::::::

_It was so long ago… so long ago. _

_The memories haunt my mind. _

_The girl is keeping them alive. _

_Makes me open up to my past. _

_The remnants of what I can still remember. _

_What I don't want to remember. _

_My father was a drinker. _

_He beat my mother every night. _

_Then he left her bleeding on the floor. _

_Every. Single. Night. _

_Once I tried to stand up for her. _

_He didn't like it. _

_Not. One. Bit. _

_So, me watching, he kills her. _

_Right then and there. _

_Splits her mouth right open with a carving knife. _

_That's the first time I saw a smile. _

_A Glasgow smile. _

_My little brother screamed. _

_But I just stared. _

_I killed my father as soon as I could afford a gun._

_I was fifteen. _

_I dropped out of school. _

_I ran away from home. _

_I lived on the streets. _

_I started dealing drugs to make money. _

_Crack. LSD. Meth. _

_That was how I met Jack Napier. _

_It was the second time I saw a smile. _

_A Glasgow smile. _

_He had gone through a lot, he told me. _

_His wife disappeared. His child gone. His face destroyed. _

_He turned to my drugs. My LSD. _

_They took away the pain. _

_They took away the sorrow. _

_They took away the memories. _

_We soon became friends. _

_And business partners. _

_One night, Jack asked me if I wanted to go into a new business. _

_We would start a gang. _

_Something that had never been seen before. _

_A gang headed by a clown. _

_I ask him what he meant. _

_He just laughed. _

_The Joker's gang became the most powerful in Gotham. _

_More powerful than the Mafia. _

_More powerful than the police. _

_More powerful than the world. _

_And I was the only one who knew him for his true identity. _

_To the rest he was just a face. _

_::::::::::_

Mark woke yet again, this time to a rising sun.

6:15

"Great... more dreams."

He rolled off of the couch and slowly made his way over to the kitchenette for some cold pizza and beer. Breakfast.

::::::::::

Allison barged in at eight. She was already dressed in her full mime costume- minus the mask, which was resting between her fingers.

Mark waved half heartedly to acknowledge her presence, he liked her… reminded him of Jack… He plopped back on the couch, waiting for her instruction.

"Now let's go over the plan."

Mark wasn't listening. He was caught up in his day dreams again.

::::::::::

_The girl, Allison is so much like him. _

_They are one in the same. _

_I wish he could have met her. _

_I wish he could have met his daughter. _

_She will become him. _

_I stare at her from across the room._

_She is pacing back and forth, nervously. _

_She does not notice my vacant stare. _

_She does not notice my thoughts. _

"_It hurts to smile and so I smile more and it hurts more!" _

"_I can't stop smiling so I can't stop hurting!"_

"_Why must I have these stupid reflexes!" _

"_Ha ha OW! He ha ho he! __DAMN! It hurts so bad!" _

_She continues to rant and knocks over a lamp. _

_My favorite lamp. _

_But I don't care. _

_I don't care about anything anymore. _

_Not about the heist last night. _

_Not about the mysterious explosion that will occur today. _

_Not about anything. _

_Not since I met Jack. _

::::::::::::

Allison sighed, "Shit. Sorry about the lamp."

Mark nodded, not paying attention. He knew he could get a new one at a garage sale anyway.

The girl sat down next to her lead henchman and pulled a map of a daycare out of her pocket.

"So let's go over the plan. Group A, consisting of five men are on the roof here. Make sure they are only disposable temporaries. We don't want any valuables getting killed by the Bat-_uh_. They will be located mainly as a watch, if the Batman comes; I want to know about it. They also serve as decoys, as Batman will have to spend some time dealing with them.

Group B consisting of six go into the back door of the daycare where they usually bring materials into the building. That's your group. You don't go in, but instead hold the door open, and watch in case I need any assistance.

Now group C consisting of four men, headed by me, barge into the door and hold the children at gunpoint.

When I give a signal the children will be shot and I will throw the grenade at the police who by my calculations will enter towards the front. They don't know about the back door, as it was only used for storage, but I do. I went to this daycare for three years back in preschool so I know my way around the building like the back of my hand.

Then we will be let out from the back door by you and your team and escape into the night. Got it?"

Mark nodded. If he didn't get it, he would.

::::::::::

Eleven A.M.

Four men and a mime waltzed into the front door of Happy Times Daycare.

"Can I help you?" A teacher briefly looked up, expecting a frazzled parent who forgot to send little Jimmy a snack for the afternoon. But she was wrong. Dead wrong.

One of the burly thugs quickly grabbed her and pressed her by the throat against the wall. She wailed and screamed. But he didn't make a sound.

"What… what… are you doing?!" The young woman cried, trying to struggle free of his grasp.

The man didn't budge; instead he watched his boss, the mime. As she swirled around the room, she inspected each whimpering hostage slowly, one by one.

_Sally…Timmy… Julia… Bobby… Caroline… their pain is your game. Your fun. Your enjoyment. Watch their eyes. They will give away their true feelings, Allie._

Allison blinked behind the mask, surprised at the words going through her head. Those weren't her thoughts… she was sure of that. They came from a being much darker, much more sinister than she could ever be… but who?

"Please don't hurt the children!" The teacher's shrill voice penetrated the silence.

The mime cocked her head at the teacher. She found it strange that this woman would not cry out for her own safety but instead for the safety of a gaggle of unrelated three year olds.

_What a shame… such unselfishness wasted. They will die. They will all die. You will have fun with this, Allie. All of my joy is yours now. All you have to do is pull the trigger… _

The voice was overpowering. Mesmerizing. Hypnotizing. She knew she should listen to herself and not this stranger in her head…

Allison pulled out her machine gun and swiftly shot the woman in the forehead.

::::::::::

After one glance at the scene, Jim Gordon knew there was absolutely nothing he could do. This woman was dangerous and most likely mad. Did she work for the Joker? Was she somehow involved in his plan? Or was she someone entirely new?

The middle aged man shook his head. This wasn't a job for him. This was a job for the Batman.

::::::::::

As Batman surveyed the events unfolding before him from a safe distance away, he sighed softly. What could he do? This girl- or woman- whoever she was, was a schemer. She had planned the heist well.

All of the doors were guarded, as well of the roof. Batman noticed from afar that each man held a heavy piece of artillery. The mime had obviously been anticipating his approach. It was almost like she was taunting him, inviting him to do what she knew he couldn't. The Batman's only way of defeating her was to do the unthinkable. He would have to blow up the building- killing the children inside.

Batman's heart broke at the thought of all of the innocent lives that would be lost. And all he could do was watch.

::::::::::

_Alright, Allie. Now it's time for the grand finale. Give these people what they have been waiting for. _

The voice called my name, inviting me to follow through.

_Just pull the pin. It's so easy._

I knew what I wanted to do. What I had to do.

::::::::::

The explosion was larger than I had expected. The flames enveloped the few remnants of the building- taking the children and several foolhardy policemen with it.

Absolutely Terrifying. Absolutely powerful. Absolutely beautiful.

I wish I could have stuck around to watch the fireworks, but I knew I couldn't. I would have been caught. I begrudgingly grabbed a seat and buckled the adjacent seatbelt around my waist and chest.

As we sped off towards Mark's apartment amidst the wailing sirens and yells, I felt peaceful, peaceful enough to close my eyes and think about what had happened.

I contemplated the day. I contemplated the voice. I contemplated _number eight._

**A/N Hi everyone!!**

**Evilquail: Good evening ladies and gentlemen... you are enjoying the story i hope? **

**Kurai: Well they _would _be if YOU didn't take so long to UPDATE!!!!**

**Evilquail: Hey you know what, I'm busy! Busy busy busy... between therapy and exams I barley have time to breathe! **

**Kurai: Right. We have exams next week people. And then... IT'S SUMMER! Now, we're gonna try REALLY REALLY hard to continue updating over the summer. We really are. I think.**

**Evilquail: WHY DO YOU KEEP TALKING IN CAPSLOCK?**

**Kurai: I'm. Not. :p**

**Evilquail: sure... well anyways Kurai told me not to blow her up in the A/N this time but I'm gonna do it anyways. I'm a man of my word...**

**Kurai: 1. You're not a man, you're a girl. 2. You can't blow me up. If you blow me up, you'll never be able to publish another chapter, because it's on _my _account. So there. **

**Evilquail: Just wait and see. Just wait and see. Well anyways. Toodaloo old chap and salutations to your extraterrestrial cucumbers! **


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**The Ninth Grenade**

"_Where is the Joker? What does he have to say about all of this? When will he strike next? What does the Batman have to say? Is the Joker dead? Find out on tonight's episode of…" _

Mark turned off the TV, annoyed. I hated to admit it, but people were starting to get suspicious of the fact that the Joker hadn't done anything major in quite a while- since the incident with the two ferry boats. It would only be a matter of time until…

"Allison, come with me." Mark sighed, pushing himself out of the ratty recliner.

I looked up from my seat, confused. "Why? What do you want?"

"You're ready."

My mind was spinning. Was he serious?

::::::::::

He _was _serious. Oh so serious. He retreated into his room for several minutes and soon came out with a large box. The suit. For me. The Joker.

I followed him back to my father's apartment. He set the box down on the stained carpet and pulled a pair of scissors from his pocket.

"What are you doing?" I asked confused.

He pointed to my hair. The hair I had been growing out for years. The hair that I was saving for locks of love. The hair that was the last reminder of my old life in the suburbs.

"No way!" I yelped backing into the corner away from Mark and the dreaded scissors.

"Look, Allison." Mark sighed, "If you are going to do this you have to cut your hair. But then again we could always fake the Joker's death with maybe an accident or something…"

"Fine… you can cut my hair. Just don't make me regret it." I sat cross legged on the floor in front of where Mark was kneeling.

He took the scissors to my locks and slowly began to hack away at my last treasure.

_Snip. Snip. Snip._

I actually laughed a little- just then. Somehow the sound of the scissors mocking my letting go completely of my old life was just so… comical. Mark looked at me strangely, so I calmed down and thought about all the annoying newscasters we had just been watching.

After several dreadful minutes, Mark set the scissors down.

"Can I see?" I mumbled.

"Not yet. We still have to do your makeup."

"But shouldn't I look so I can see how to put it on?"

Mark smiled at my misunderstanding, "Jack- your father never used a mirror. The messier the better."

He stood up and walked over to the closet. He pulled the old makeup tubes out from where they had been stashed in the box from my father.

"Alright, Allison. I think I should do the makeup for you the first time. It seems kind of… awkward, but you can learn how to do it later. Don't worry; I helped Jack design the concept for the Joker. I could draw that smile in my sleep. "

His shaking hand grasped the large tube of half used white grease paint and squeezed some out into his palm. He started rubbing it onto my face like he was finger painting. The paint was cool and his touch made me flinch.

"Sorry." He mumbled, rubbing the white pigment into my skin.

Next, Mark grabbed the smaller tube of black paint. He dabbed a small amount onto his finger and motioned for me to close my eyes. I did so and soon the makeup had found its way onto my tender eyelids.

He sighed, allowing me to open my eyes again, "I think that you should do the smile yourself. I don't want to hurt you. Just trace your… scars and you should be fine."

He handed me the red paint tube. I slowly globed some on my finger and began to trace.

Mark stared at me, amused. "Don't be so careful. Have fun with it. You look like Ronald McDonald."

He laughed at the idea of comparing the _Joker _to the McDonald's mascot. Inwardly, I smiled too. I smeared the remainder of the grease on unevenly, covering my entire "smile"- which oddly wasn't irritated by the paint.

"Jack made sure that the paint wouldn't hurt his scars." Mark said, noticing my confusion, "We tested tons of brands and he found he liked this one the most because it didn't sting or itch. Plus it's really cheap. He liked that too."

Of course.

Soon, I had finished tracing my cuts. I handed Mark the tube of red paint. I was ready.

Mark dug around in his pocket and soon came up with a small hand mirror. When I peered into it, I was utterly and completely shocked by the man staring back at me, although I had been preparing for the sight for weeks.

I. Was. The. Joker.

It was almost as if someone had ripped a picture of my father out of a magazine and taped it on the mirror as a joke. I gazed into my own eyes and felt the emptiness and hollowness overpower me. It felt as if I had just realized a part of myself- a part that had been missing my entire life.

I felt dark. I felt different. I felt… _good_.

"Allison…" Mark sighed, realizing that I was lost in dreamland again, "The suit?"

I looked at the scruffy box Mark held out in front of me. I smiled at it menacingly. It was mine. Finally mine.

::::::::::

The strange thing was, the suit fit perfectly. No alterations would be needed. I had always known that I was taller than average, but wearing a man's suit was just plain weird.

As I examined it in the mirror, Mark stood behind me, bemused.

"How do I look?" I teased him, spinning in a circle, showing off my new outfit.

"Jack would have been proud. So… what are you planning to destroy today, boss?"

"Hmm…" I mocked my father's signature tone, "How about… that department store… downtown?"

Mark stared at me wide-eyed, "That's pretty big, Allison. Are you sure?"

"I'm not Allison anymore. At least not to the world. To them I'm the Joker. I need to act the part, which calls for big heists. But I _will_ need help. Care to join?"

Mark pulled a rumpled latex clown mask out of a drawer and pulled it over his head.

"Always was… Always would be… Boss…" I could imagine him talking like that to m father. It felt good.

We were in this together.

::::::::::

_Wanna know how I got these scars?_

_Well… I'll tell ya… _

_My mother and father had me right out of school. _

_One night, when I was young, thieves broke into our house. Mafia. _

_My parents woke up just as the criminals were rummaging through the valuables. _

_Daddy tried to stop them. _

_They shot him dead-_uh_. Right then and there. _

_Mommy screamed in horror. _

_They shot. Her. Too. _

_Hearing the… _commotion_, I woke up and wandered into the bedroom where this had been going on. _

_Seeing the bodies, I started crying. _

_To shut me up, they tried to shoot me. _

_But they were out of bullets._

_They searched their pockets for something else to kill me with. _

_All they had was a knife. _

_So they carved a smile right into my face. _

_I fell over on the ground and played dead as they escaped into the night. _

_I was four years old. _

The overweight woman looked on in horror as I told her my story and pinned her using my father's pocket knife. The other patrons of the store were hiding under various displays of lingerie and perfume, terrified. They believed the story. They believed me.

Mark was right behind me, disguised by the rubber clown mask. He was threatening the more daring customers with a machine gun, warning them to keep their mouths shut.

I grabbed a pair of smiley face boxers off of a men's underwear rack.

"I would… like to make a purch_ase_." I announced loudly as I marched over to where the clerk was hiding, "Ring these up for me, will ya?"

The clerk was a teenage girl, no older than me- but she didn't know that. I shoved the boxers in her face and she rang them up as quickly as she could.

"_$ 7.99"_ She winced softly.

I dug around in my new trench coat and grabbed a grenade out of my pocket.

"This should about cover it." I laughed manically. "Have a niiiice day."

I pulled the pin, threw the grenade, and fled.

::::::::::::

Back in the car, Mark and I were having quite a laugh.

"Did you see the look on that fat lady's face?" He chuckled.

"25 standard grenades- $200, smiley face boxers- $7.99" I imitated the commercials I had seen so many times, "Becoming the most terrifying super villain in Gotham- priceless."

Mark started laughing hysterically. I joined in momentarily, but stopped, wondering if my father ever fooled around like this after a heist.

"Where did you get the idea for that scar story?" Mark's face turned suddenly serious, hoping that I hadn't given away any of my past.

"Don't worry, none of it was true. I made it up on the way there."

Mark breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Never give away anything. Anything. You can't risk your identity. If they found out…"

We both stared out the front windshield, suddenly remembering just how dangerous this scheme was. If anyone found out… _anyone at all_, I would end up in Arkham for the rest of my days, serving time not only for my crimes but for my father's as well.

And my mother would find out too. Even if the police and the public never found out that I wasn't the real Joker, my mother would know.

"We have to be careful…" I breathed heavily as Mark stepped on the gas pedal. "You are the only one who can be in on my secret. We have to take precautions to make sure that neither of us gets caught."

"Like what?"

"You have to stop calling me Allison. If anyone heard you, everything my father had ever worked for would come crashing down. It's "the Joker" or "boss" now. Even in private. We can't risk anyone knowing."

"Sounds good, I guess," Mark replied nonchalantly.

"We also need to move. Somewhere safe. People around here are beginning to get suspicious of us. It doesn't have to be nice, just secure."

"Look, Allis… boss. Your father had several warehouses. One has ample living space on the upper floors. It's real safe. Almost indestructible. We can go there."

I nodded to him, approving. It would work.

**A/N Yo once again, peeps. **

**Evilquail: Hello there. Hey Kurai, I have a question. **

**Kurai: Uh ok... Nani? (What?)**

**Evilquail: Actually I have two questions. The first is Why So Serious? **

**Kurai: Let's skip to the second.**

**Evilquail: But I like the first question! Anyways, I want to know why NO ONE is reviewing the story! Is it boring to you (the readers)... or are we just too weird... or are you peoples just busy... or are you dead??? (Because if you are dead I can always dissect your corpse... I'm quite good at that. Just ask Kurai.) **

**Kurai: Right, right evilquail the mortician... But actually i think you might be right. We got like two reviews for the last chapter... But either way, this chapter was pretty crazy... I MEAN COME ON!!! Allison is the fliping JOKER now! JESUS CHRIST!! Oh, and heads up, next chapter marks the begining of our character killing spree. BE PREPARED. I'll probably cry but it's all good. **

**Evilquail: Suck it up Kurai. We have killed like 100 random civillans so far and no one cared because it's all part of the plan. But when we say we are going to kill one teeney tiny major character, EVERYONE LOOSES THEIR MINDS! (Especially you, Kurai- chan. You are rather emotional.) **

**Kurai: Well, gee im sorry. If it was up to me, this entire story would be an emotional mess of romance and dramatics. Lucky for the readers, Evilquail is keeping me sane. Thanks for reading, people!! ~.~ Review please!!**

**Evilquail: I'm keeping you sane? Well that's just... hmm... I really don't know what to say. I'm the one taking happy pills for christ's sake. :) Thank you? Anyways, Toodaloo old chap and salutations to your retired English Teacher**


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**The Tenth Grenade **

Silence. Long, unending silence.

The stifling lack of words echoing throughout the dark, shoddy warehouse was too much for them to bear. It had been three weeks since they had heard from their boss. Three weeks since the piercing alarm signifying his presence had gone off. Three weeks since they had seen or heard from the Joker.

Rumor had it that he was dead. Whispers darted through the building like bullets. Schizophrenics, the depressed, and the bipolar alike had been attracted to him like moths to a porch light, becoming entranced in his magical spell.

They had grown attached to the mysterious man as orphans are attracted to an anonymous benefactor who has graced their school with food and textbooks, grateful for all he had done but still wishing and praying for more. This man had become their singular source of income, a future, and sanity. And now he was no where to be found.

By now the shards of hope that once lingered, promising his glorious return from the abyss, had long vanished, passing into the cold dense air as quickly as they he had disappeared. All they could do was to go about their meager worthless existence, scraping up miniscule sums of money to get by with odd jobs and minor heists.

The sound came out of no where. The alarm had finally gone off. The Joker was back.

The henchmen scattered about, full of joyous chatter and relief, as well as worried, intimidated agony. They would live as they once did. They had hope once again. All they had to do was wait but another moment and they would find themselves…

::::::::::

I was not prepared for the sight before my eyes. The happiness of reunions past had completely vanished behind the joy of the men before me. This was my father's family. My family. The henchmen.

I was curious. Who were these people? Were they but unstable youths who had run away from abusive homes, or dark criminal masterminds, schemers worthy of the deepest pits of institutional hell? Were they like me? Were they like my father? Or were they different? I was curious. But a brief tap behind me sharply reminded me of the part I needed to play. All the world a stage. All the men and women merely players. And I, lucky I, played the part of a clown.

I waved my hand nonchalantly in the air, "Good evening… gents-_uh_. I've got some new… _ideas_."

::::::::::

Dawn sat at home, eating potato chips when a thought came to her mind. Whatever had become of that girl, Allison? Was she okay? What about Mark? How were they?

Dawn had always found the situation suspicious. Why did Allison stay with Mark, anyways? He was much too young to be her father, but much too old to be her brother. How did she know him? Who were they?

Mark was a grungy thirty year old single man, the kind you would expect to see on the news as a suspect who had just robbed a bank or stole money from a gas station. His suspicious lack of words and uncaring manner made him the perfect example of a stereotypical criminal.

A sharp pain hit Dawn in the stomach, as she realized that the girl was in the situation she had been in so many years before... Allison had been kidnapped by Mark Jamison.

Dawn sat up, throwing the chips aside. Hunger would have to wait. She needed to pay a visit.

::::::::::

Dawn walked up to the door of Mark's apartment once again. She groped for a doorbell but finding none, she planted two sharp raps on the door.

"Mark? Allison? It's Dawn!"

No response.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

Dawn knew from experience that they could very well be inside. That there could be something going on which was not deemed acceptable by the public eye. Mark was raping the girl, and Dawn knew she was the one who had to stop it.

The transvestite threw herself onto the door with all her weight. It didn't budge. She slammed at it again, this time getting a running start. The wood frame creaked, but it still wasn't moving. Dawn knew her body wouldn't stand for the pressure of another slam. But she had to help the girl. She had to help Allison. Out of desperation Dawn tugged at the wood until she realized that she had forgotten something and slowly turned the handle. The door was unlocked.

::::::::::

The strangest part of it was that Dawn didn't recognize the items at first. The tubes of makeup cream, the open box of grenades- they just didn't make sense. Was this clown apparel one of Mark's sick fetishes? Or was it something else? The material was over Dawn's head. Until she went into the bedroom.

Hundreds of packs of cards were messily strewn all over the place, as if they were trash. But each deck had missing something. As Dawn surveyed the room she found a small pile, the only neat un-crumpled cards in the room. The joker cards.

Dawn looked at the cards with astonishment and disbelief. She checked the evidence again and again, and each time the case grew stronger. That clown lived in this very apartment. She knew something was off the moment she had walked in, but what she had discovered truly dumbfounded her. How could… how could Mark be the Joker?

The fear was too much for a mere transvestite. She had talked with the Joker. She had laughed with the Joker. She had even driven home with the Joker. He was larger then life but so close to home. How could one so bad be so near? How could one hide such terrible mistakes? How could one lead such a deceptive double life? And most importantly, what was to become of Allison? Did she know Mark's true identity? Why did she constantly wear a scarf around her neck?

Had he given her a smile?

The agony of the thought was too much to bear. Dawn fell onto the floor in a slump. She had fainted.

::::::::::

The meeting had gone well. Soon after entering the warehouse had I realized just why my father had hired such goons: they were eager to please, completely loyal, and forever unquestioning. The perfect type to go on a murder rampage with.

As Mark and I drove back to his apartment for the final time, to pick up the evidence of our existence before we moved to the warehouse, I had a strange thought.

Dawn.

::::::::::

Sometimes fate strikes us in the strangest of places. It grabs upon our souls and waits for the opportune moment to wreak havoc. It forces us to do what we would normally never do. It forces us to kill a friend.

She had found out. She knew my secrets. She knew that I was the joker.

Mark and I stared at the unconscious body among the cards. Dawn was now a danger to our identities and the truth behind our dangerous game. What else did she know? And what would happen if she reported us?

More importantly, how would we dispose of the body?

Mark turned to me, pulling off his rubber clown mask.

"Hey boss, still got one of those grenades?"

::::::::::

I don't know why I hadn't seen it before. I carefully pulled my box of grenades and makeup out of the apartment and placed them into Mark's trunk. I didn't even bother bringing along any clothes besides the Joker suit that I was wearing.

I threw the grenade into the open window, and stepped on the gas.

**A/N Dawn's gone....**

**Evilquail: HA! **

**Kurai: Meanie... How can you be so heartless??!! Killing off a character like he/she isn't a real person!! Dawn was a living being!**

**Evilquail: But it's fun... Oh, and to our readers, it's not my fault this took so long. I wrote it, but Kurai took two weeks to edit it!**

**Kurai: Hehe sorry. I'm taking advantage of summer and being lazy...**

**Evilquail: Would the summer really change anything? You're ALWAYS lazy. **

**Kurai: So what? I'm lazy in a psychadelic way. **

**Evilquail: Hey! Psychadelic is my line! **

**Kurai: No. You're line is 'Ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?'**

**Evilquail: Oh yeah. Toodaloo old chaps, and salutations to your mexican umbrella!**


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The Eleventh Grenade

"Welcome, ladieees an' gents… to a special show I'd like to call… uh… _life_. It's not-uh always eeeeasy, and it's not always fair… I mean-"

I grab the face of a pretty woman standing a few feet away from me, as I waltz gleefully through the crowd. I imagine this as a strange reenactment of what the party at the Wayne Manor must have been like a few months ago. Only difference- no Bruce Wayne. And unfortunately, no Batman. Yet.

But I could change that.

"Come on, sweetie, sweetie… sweetie… look at me! _LOOK AT ME!_" I say excitedly, arm around the woman's attractive, though hunched over, shoulders. She's a few years older than me. But she doesn't know that. To all the people in the room (minus Mark) I'm the ageless, _male_ Joker. The first rule about pretending to be a man, specifically a psychotic man, is to always freak out the ladies first. _Especially_ the beeauutiiful ones.

"Do I _look _like I got the _fair _side of life?! The cream-m of the crop? The… puh-ick of the litter?" I shake her shoulders roughly, and get a hectic nod out of her. I raise my eyebrows, and lower my forehead, never breaking eye contact. "I… do?"

She shakes her head again, negatively this time. I grin, and shove her back into the crowd.

"Yep-_uh_. Exactly. Right-t on the… mark. And… sorry to disappoint all of you fine, _fine _people but… neither did you. As you… you-uh lovely people tonight are going to have some… _fun._ LIKE ME!"

Most of the women in the room are reduced to tears by this point, and the sounds of moaning echoes through the room. It's like an orchestra of woes. And to me… It's like a drug. A very dangerous, _extremely _illegal drug.

I begin to… _Laugh. _

"Have… a wonderful night-uh! _Ladies…_"

I toss the grenade and speed out of the room, my new henchmen trailing behind.

::::::::::

The men all laugh in the van. At some moments the tires squeal over the sound of their thundering voices, as the car speeds down the road. I can already hear the sirens, but they are much too far off to even bother worrying about- not that I would ever worry.

I climb to the front of the vehicle and glance out the windshield. I've got some random goon driving, and Mark sits shotgun. I lean forward, and Mark yawns, looking bored as ever.

"Hey…" I mutter lowly, so only Mark and the driver can hear me. Mark doesn't even turn, but I see the driver turn frantically. "I…want to drive!"

"Uh… oh…sure, boss." He gets up slowly, unsure whether or not to pull over.

"Come on, come on," I hurry him along, tapping against the dashboard to illustrate my impatience. He shoots into the back, and the van swerves noticeably. I hear yelps of surprise as I excitedly land in the driver's seat.

"Batsy, batsy, batsy, batsy, batsy…" I chant continuously, under my breath.

"You think he'll come?"

"Yep!" I only break my chant to say the one word, and start over immediately. "Batsy, batsy, batsy, batsy, batsy… Batsy?"

I hear the low rumbling of an engine, and I shoot out of the driver's seat, not caring it's unmanned; Mark will grab it.

I open the sliding door, and stick my head out, glancing up and down the street. Sure enough, here comes Batman, rolling down the street in his motorcycle.

"BATSY!" I yell at the top of my lungs, doing a great impression of a school girl seeing her best friend on the street. Or maybe not that great considering until not too long ago I _was _a school girl.

I chuck a cassette tape at Mark. "Play it!" It's an old car. It has a tape player. We're far enough from the building we just exploded that the sirens have died down completely. Outside the car, it's completely silent, other than the sound of Batman's engine.

The quiet hum of the music slowly echoed through the vehicle.

"LOUDER!"

As Batman closes in on the van, the song's first words explode the silence.

"…_Boo-ba-doo-ba-doop!_

_Boo-ba-doo-ba-doop!"_

"Joker!" Batman's low voice comes from his dark shape. I wave excitedly.

"HI BATSY! GLAD YOU COULD MAKE IT!"

The vehicle swings around as Mark makes a tight turn. My back twitches. The suspense is boring a hole in my sanity. _Come on come on come on come on… _

Batsy keeps on the trail. Mark drives into the parking garage we previously discussed.

Meanwhile the music continues blasting in the background.

"_Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring… Banana phone!"_

I jump back into the middle of the van, then emerge, snacking on a ripe, yellow banana. For the next verse, _"I've got this feeling, so appealing, for us to get together and sing…"_

I throw the leftover banana peel towards the approaching Batman.

"What the-?!" He is forced to jump from the motorcycle, as it skids on the peel. He tumbled to the ground. I laugh hysterically, bending over and clutching my gut.

"_Sing!"_

CRASH! The motorcycle explodes. Batman gets up slowly, glaring darkly across the garage.

I nod to a couple of my men in the van, and they grab their guns, jumping out of the van quickly, and running towards Batsy.

"_Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring banana phone… Ding dong ding dong ding dong ding donana phone… It grows in bunches, I've got my hunches!"_

They shoot at him, he flinches, but keeps walking. The Bat pushes a button and bat shaped spikes come flying out of his left arm. _Interesting. _

He manages to block the butt of one of the guns, and slices the face off of one of my men with the right. The goon falls to the ground bleeding. It pisses me off. That man was part of my family. But I've learned to not react by now. It's all part of the job. _All part of the FUN. _

"_Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring…Banana phone…Boop-boo-ba-doo-ba-doop!" _I sing, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I jump back into the van, and it curves up the parking garage, engine revving at the sharp turns. We make sharp turn after sharp turn, twirling around the parking garage. The wheels squeal over and over again, while the song continues in the background. The longer nothing happens, the more my dangerous 'high' dies down.

But not for long.

The Bat is back. And this time on… _roller skates?_

"COME AND GET IT BATSY!" I grin even wider than normally.

"_Ying yang ying yang ying yang ying yonana phone… It's a real live mama and papa phone, a brother and sister and a dogaphone, a grandpa phone and a grammophone too! Oh yeah!_

"Joker!" Deep growls echo from the black figure once again.

"_My cellular, bananular phone!"_

I giggle. "Is that all you can say?"

But he couldn't hear me. We were gone, into the night, into the abyss, with the giggling voice of the song echoing into the darkness.

"_Banana phone, ring ring ring!_

_(It's a phone with a peel!)_

_Banana phone, ring ring ring!_

_(Now you can have your phone and eat it too!)_

_Banana phone, ring ring ring!_

_(This song drives me bananas!)_

_Banana phone, ring ring ring!" _

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… Ha.

**A/N Once again.... My fault.**

**evilquail: when is it NOT your fault? **

**Kurai: Meanie. BUT I wrote most of this chapter... So that makes me feel a little better. The problem is that the evilquail and i seem to have a lack of communication during the summer. i just said that? **

**evilquail: hahaha i just typed your part for you! **

**Kurai: Right..... She does that sometimes... Anywho... THANK YOU to everyone for your beautiful, glorious, stupendous, AMAZING reviews!!!! And by the way. if you stalk me i will provide you with delicious japanese chocolate**

**evilquail: yepyepyep! **

**Kurai: HEY! Stop doing that!!!**

**evilquail: I have the right to remain silent. anything i say can be used against me in a court of law**

**Kurai: uh okayy...**

**evilquail: well anyways toodaloo old chap and salutations to your orange county chopper!!**


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_The Twelfth Grenade_

He had come as usual, terrorizing the neighborhood, laughing through the night, loading the machine guns. The unmarked trucks and vans were nothing unusual and to the untrained eye, this was almost an exact recreation of many events that had occurred over and over in the past.

But there was something different about tonight.

_It wasn't him. _

_It wasn't the Joker. _

The Batman scratched his head as he continued his pursuit of the copycat criminal. How could the Joker stand for this kind of slander? How had the terrorist clown have allowed this to slide? Had this Joker somehow made an arrangement to the first? Or was the first being replaced?

Batman pondered the facts as any good detective would: The Joker had taken many bullets over the years. If he had survived all of them- that was nearly impossible! This was NOT the true Joker.

::::::::::

Fun. So this is what I had been missing. All of my half assed attempts at being a police officer- at blindly following the word of the higher ups- the authorities. But no matter- now I was free.

Well let me introduce myself.

My name is Joe.

Joe Kerr.

HA… ha…

Now I'm not the original clown prince of crime, but I might as well consider myself to be. This is too fun to quit. I Can see why _he_ enjoyed this so much. Why _he _did what he did.

Who's he?

He is my hero; my greatest influence in life.

I worship him. Revere him. Protect his image with my life.

He was the Joker.

But now he's dead.

And I will take his place.

The newspaper stories are bogus you see, they say the Joker has returned, that he has decided to make his great entrance into the world once again.

It is all just publicity. Corporate greed.

Because the more they talk about him, the more money they get. And they realize this.

So here I am.

I am the new him. I will give those newspapers something real to talk about. And I will give the people of Gotham that thing which they have dreaded yet longed to have for so long.

Chaos…

::::::::::

"Hey… Boss?"

I glanced up from the book I was reading. Mark was standing in front of me, a serious grimace plastered on his usually emotionless face.

"Uh… you might want to read this… It's kinda important."

Mark shoved something at me. _The Gotham Times. _I flipped it open and began to read:

_BREAKING NEWS! _

_THE JOKER STRIKES AGAIN! _

I sigh. Was this some sort of Joke? Why did he want me to read this?

_A sighting of the Joker has been reported at the West Gotham Shopping Mall last evening. According to reports seven were injured and one was killed as the madman went about creating chaos. _

Wait… what?

_The victim has been identified as Lucius Fox, a 58 year old successful businessman employed at Wayne enterprises. The entire community mourns the loss of such an intelligent man as the investigation continues. _

What was this? Who was this Joker- a stupid worthless imitator… or maybe something more.

Like my Father.

What if he was alive? What if we could destroy the world together and create a better one- one full of madness and destruction and… laughter.

But that's impossible.

My father was killed a long time ago.

I am the Joker now. I am the Joker. I am!

_And no one else is. _

I felt a rush of adrenaline jolt through my body. I would find this imitator. And he would pay.

::::::::::

I clutched the throat. I heard the silent scream.

"What… what… do you… what?" He squeezed and shook, trying to break free from my iron grasp. I knew he hadn't seen my face.

I spun him around and cornered him against a wall, knife in hand. I could see the terror in his eyes. I could see the pleading in his emotions, praying that I would show mercy.

But why would I?

After all… I _am the Joker. _

"Hmm…" I turn to Mark, continuing to press my weight on his now weak body. "Now- uh what do we have here?"

The fake clown shuddered as I flashed a toothy grin.

"Now… now this is just a HOOT! And to imagine! I've… I've-uh got my own fan club! Hey… uh… me. Got a name? "

"Joe. Joe… Kerr"

"_HEY_! What a riot! We have the EXACT same name! Now that's…. that's-uh interesting. Now sir, I would be happy-uh to invite you into my place…"

Mark peered at me wide eyed. I knew that last comment had surprised him. Nevertheless I continued.

"But… uh I don't have a place at the moment-_tuh_. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't-_tuh_ be hospitable. Now, I'm a man who likes alcohol. Wine beer, vodka. I frankly don't give a shit as to what it is as long as it gets me drunk-k. I'm sure you- being me are the same, correct? "

The man nervously shook his head.

_Here comes the punch line! _

"So, uh would you care for some… _red rum_?

My impersonator gulped.

_Go-for-it-go-for-it-go-for-it… _

"O…. okay."

I hollered. I had won.

"PERFECT!"

The man looked at me confused. He didn't get the joke. But that would be okay. Because he would get it soon.

I threw the grenade and ran.

::::::::::

Red rum.

Murder.

Red rum.

Murder.

Red rum.

Murder

Ha…

**A/N We posted!! Aren't you proud?**

**evilquail: very. it would have taken less time if a man that shall be only refered to as BUTTERFINGERS did not manage to stop my internet connecton for a weekend. but don't worry. it's. all. taken. care. of. **

**Kurai: Ok cool I guess.... Well we are having a boring school year so far. Busy busy busy. And lame. **

**Evilquail: I'm going to die of boredom if something FUN dosen't happen right now... he he... fun... he he... well anyways toodaloo old chap and salutations to your mangled sweeney todd roast beef!**


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N There's some language in this chapter... Also, we think there may have been a problem with the publishing system. Before reading this, please make sure you read Chapter 12. Thanks!**

**25 Grenades**

**Chapter 13**

**The Thirteenth Grenade**

The _Fun_ One

It was supposed to be a joke really.

_I swear! _

But they… just didn't get it. So I… had… to. I just had too!

I didn't mean to kill them!

But it doesn't matter now.

I'm out.

I'm free.

And I'm in love!!!

I can't wait to see him! I really can't! He will be so happy with me. Only question is- why didn't he come and visit?

I was stuck in that hole for two years. Two years of orange jumpsuits and bland mashed potatoes, and cold emptiness.

Yuck.

But now that emptiness will be fulfilled! And I will see him once again!

Only question is…

Will my puddin be happy to see me too?

Of course he will!

After all- we're in love!

::::::::::

The darkness had fallen over the rooftops of Gotham many hours before- nearly everyone was in their beds at this time of night.

Everyone that is except for Allison.

Everyone that is except for the Joker.

The plans for the next heist were going swimmingly- but there were still some details to be worked out. Minor details- but every scheme must not be over looked.

After all.

It all. Has. To. Go. According. To. Plan.

The plan is what had made the dishonest pundits and sleazy stockbrokers of this city so filthy rich, the way they planned on stealing from the poor and calling it "business", the way they picked the pockets of the needy and justified this as "The law". Even for Allison, it was cold.

And that's what made it so… fun.

But now it was time to sleep. The Red Bulls were finally wearing off of the new criminal, and the exciting high was gone. The new room in the warehouse, although dark and dim was a haven for her, the only place where she could be the girl she really was, once. It was a place to take off the makeup and expose the unwrinkled skin beneath- to expose the human beneath. It was paradise.

And so was sleep.

She closed her eyes and began to drift away to dreamland.

Of Fires, of Brimstone, of Laughter.

"MISTAH J!!!"

Oh. God.

::::::::::

She will be glad. Glad I couldn't sleep on this particular night. Glad I noticed the bubbly blonde hopping-no flipping towards the warehouse with the utmost glee. Glad I found Harley before she found us.

But for now all Alli- no the boss wants to do is wring my neck. I can see it in her eyes. The way she glares as the gymnast squeals and bounces all over the room. It's there. The fire.

Just like her father. Just like the Joker.

I can see it just as it was yesterday…

"_Damn it Harley, get off of my case. We all know I'm busy tonight." _

"_but… but… mistah j… are you sure you don't wanna play?" _

"_Now now… there will…. Will be plenty of time once I'm finished with the bat-t. Tonight will be his last." _

"_But what if it isn't? What if…"_

_The Joker roared with all his strength as he pinned the small but athletic girl to the wall. _

"_ARE… YOU. DOUBTING. ME. WOMAN?" _

_Harley shook her head quickly as she gasped for air. He could see the tears streaming down her cheeks, smearing the cheap mascara. Fear. _

"_no… no… pudding… I just… wanted…" _

"_LEAVE." _

_As Harley scurried out of the room, the Joker- no Jack, slowly turned to his most loyal henchman. Me. _

"_Isn't she-uh wonderful, Mark-k?" _

::::::::::

Have ya ever noticed how people seem different after a looooong time and stuff?

Well it's probably nothing but I think there's something up with Mistah J. I don't think it is anything, but you never know with him. Cause he can hide emotions.

I remember the last time I saw him, right before I got caught by the Bat-dude. He was like so… deep at the time. I wasn't really sure what was up with him.

Was there something wrong with him? Or had he just forgotten to sleep?

He told me he was gonna rob a bank- be the richest man in all of Gotham soon- that when we were all done we… we might even go back…

But that was a long time ago.

He's probably forgotten about all of it.

Typical.

After all, that's just the nature of man.

Right?

You see, I was a doctor once…

A doctor of medicine…

And thinking…

A shrink.

But I was bored.

Bored with my life, bored with it all. All I wanted to do was have a little bit of fun.

FUN.

::::::::::

Boom. BOOM. BOOM!

Fire. FIRE. FIRE!

Run. RUN. RUN!

Fun. FUN. FUN!

It was all part of my character now. The red flash of light, the death toll. It was typical, yet surreal. It was my anger steaming out of me like an old steam iron. The anger that my father could ever replace my mother with that… blonde bimbo. The anger in seeing her ultimate love for him- no me. The anger in her devotion.

And it was beautiful. The skulls, the bodies. The flame gives it all such a glow.

I don't know if it's art.

But. I. Like. It.

My Grenade.

Art.

HA

::::::::::

_I wonder what's different. _

_I wonder what's wrong. _

_What happened to my J_

_Is he that long gone? _

I remember the beginning of us- together like it was yesterday.

Two little chickadees in love.

Him and me. Sittin in a tree.

KISSING.

It was lovely.

It was.

But something changed in him since then.

He's been smiling less

Well not literally, he really smiles all the time

But those eyes.

They used to be full of smiles and darkness and fun.

But now they are just

Sadness… And Anger.

I like 'em!

::::::::::

It's been two weeks since Harley came back. It's hell. The bouncy bitch never stops bouncing and the boss never stops yelling. I have a headache. All the bouncing. All the banks. All the car chases. All the fuckin' explosions. And me. Just standing there in the midst of the haven of psychos. If there's anything that get's the boss on a crazy high, it's Red Bull… and anger.

There's not enough aspirin for this headache. Oh crap. Just ran out of the good stuff. I'm so screwed.

Allison never touched the stuff. Harley and the boss did it on a regular basis but no matter how many times I offer the best of my stash… Allison refuses. No explanation. She just keeps off the drugs. Whatever. More for me.

A blind man could see how mad Allison is. She just found out her father had an affair. What she doesn't know, however, she's sure to find out soon. After Harley came back, I did some snooping into her file. Very interesting. I'm debating on whether or not I should be the one to tell her.

"Mistah J- GUESS WHAT!"

"What-uh?" The irritation is so intense, it slaps me in the face. Oh wait. That's me slamming my head against the table. Harley takes no notice.

"You… and me!" She says, striking a pose on the boss's desk. "Have a SON!"

Make that a brother.

**A/N Hi hi hi everyone!!! Wasn't this an EPIC chapter??!!**

**evilquail: o it was, kurai. say i have a question for you. **

**Kurai: Yeah? Nani?**

**evilquail: Well i was wondering... why do you always talk in exclamation points? like seriously. all the time its OMYGOSH!!! HI!!!! DID YOU PEOPLES LIKE THE CHAPTER!!! Youd think that this computer is stuck on caps lock or something. Sheesh. **

**Kurai: Bitch.**

**evilquail: I know you are but what am I? **

**Kurai: You're a PENGUIN!**

**evilquail: I know you are but what am I?**

**Kurai: You're a munchkin!**

**evilquail: I know you are but what am I?**

**Kurai: You're a-**

**Allison: These two are gonna go on for a while. Todaloo old chap and salutations to your Mexican Jesus!**


	15. Chapter 14

**25 Grenades**

**Chapter 14**

**The Fourteenth Grenade**

She hated those little bastards. With their smug little grins and rosy little cheeks… how could they be so innocent all the damn time?

She had dreamed of a different life- one full of glitter and kinky leather, and men… not one with these… little rats crowding up the picture.

If she could've afforded a lawyer, she'd have killed them all right then and there.

Especially that Jack.

Although, come to think of it, he probably would be able to kill her first.

He came from prison parents, they said. Dropped off at the orphanage with nothing but a first name and the clothes on his back. A little monster in training.

To say he was the seventh level of hell was an understatement. She had caught him stabbing other children with pencils, toothpicks, and during the winter even poring anti freeze into another kid's koolade. For god's sake, if she had to take one more brat to the hospital due to Jack, the social services would come pounding her door down, charging _her_ with abuse.

It was too much. And she was more than happy to see him go… no matter where he was going.

These clowns seemed like a… happy couple after all, and if they wanted to take this bastard off of her hands, than she was more than happy to hand him over.

Good bye and good riddance.

Suckers.

::::::::::

I love the way the government works. They act so official… so perfect.

But you know what they are?

Greedy swine. All of em.

I wanna catch em like flies and smush em between the tips of my fingers.

But even they have those that they want to get rid of

To push out of the way… to forget

It was an orphanage, a state run place for unwanted kids. Spiff and spackle with white walls and hand sanitization… Sanatizer… You know that stuff… it's pure alcohol.

Kids have DIED eating a pea sized amount of that crap. And yet… and yet they put it in a orphanage.

They don't care… They just want… little Jimmy and little Sally… to float down the river in a box. Cause it's cheaper.

I… I thought I'd reward the hooker runnin the place for her good service.

For her _delicious_ hand sanitizer

So I thought…

She was taking care of the kid for so long…

She deserves a surprise. So tonight…

When she's out on a street corner… selling herself to some old man for a 20…

Her purse will start to vibrate…

But it's not her phone.

IT will be number 14

Lucky number 14.

HAHAHAHA

HA.

::::::::::

She had deceived them all for so long. It was tiring work, so hard to keep up this masquerade. After all, not everyone in this city was stupid.

Especially not the Bat.

Any day now, he could come knocking down the door, ready with armed guards and cops, ready to take this Joker down.

And once she was caught, there would be no hiding the fact that she was a different person than the one that they had captured and interrogated so long ago.

Because no matter how well she had slid into the role there would be no hiding the truth once they decided to do an all over body search…

Allison shuddered. She was the Joker now. And nothing could change that. After all, he had passed the title to her, he had given the suit to her. It was right there. In the letter. That's all there was and that's all there would be.

Now what to do about the kid…

::::::::::

Truth be told, I don't know why I named 'em Jack.

It… It just sounded so like him!

It suited him, ya know?

I don't know why Mistah J dosen't like it.

Why he growls every time I mention our son… I guess it's okey dokey… Cause he hasn't hit Jackie yet. I still got a black eye from the last time he got mad at me. I didn't do much…

But I think he was just havin' a bad day. I can't blame him though. He's been through so much. I was his head doctah after all, I know these things. My poor poor mistah J is just in need of some love… and a good time!

And that's where I come in…!

::::::::::

"Not now…"

The blonde bimbo swung herself onto her… lover's desk and proceeded to playfully tussle "his" hair.

"Are ya sure, pudding? Ya lookin kinda like ya need some cheering up! Just leave it to me!!!"

"Get… out."

The anger in "his" eyes swelled to a crescendo as she proceeded to try to push "him" into bed.

"But Puddin! Don't ya wanna rev up your Harley? VROOM VROOMM! Te he! "

It was just too much, this girl. The way she placed her well defined chest just so, right where Allison couldn't look away. Allison wanted to squeeze her neck, to push every last living particle into the depths of god knows where. Why the fuck couldn't Harley leave her alone???

"Listen… Harley. Daddy's busy. Get… the… hell… out…"

"Why!?!"

Allison couldn't control the fist. It just swung out, cracking the jawbone, splitting the face. The blood, the beautiful scarlet liquid mixed with the salty tears protruding from the eyes. It was _delicious_. Alli began to lap it up, a ravenous dog, hungry for more. She couldn't contain herself.

It was beautiful

It was chaos.

It was hers.

::::::::::

First the blond bitch and now her bastard son. If I didn't know better, I would guess that the kid wasn't even the Boss'.

But that kid… that kid is definitely _his _son. No doubt about it. The only possible combination of DNA that could be this psychotic and whacked-up is Harley and the (former) Joker.

Eh. Who knew such I little punk could be such a pain in the ass.

::::::::::

After Mistah J gets rid of the Batman, him and Jacky and me will all be a happy family! We could go to the country… and get some fresh air… and… and…

We could go on vacation! To a tropical island! I have this amazing bikini that I would love ta wear around 'im. He would love it!

Or wait! We could be like Bonnie and Clyde! Plus One! We could travel the country robbing banks and blowing stuff up and causing chaos and mayhem and-

Oh MY GOD! Even better! We could have MORE KIDS!

Better get started!

::::::::::

"Mistah J- MISTAH J!" Headache Number One burst through the door to the office. A-The Boss was sitting at the messy desk, working atop three pizza boxes that smelled like mold. The Boss didn't look up.

"MISTAH J-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!" Harley screamed at the top of her lungs, launching herself towards the Joker.

"WHAT?!" Allison snarled, thrusting out her palm to stop Harley in midair.

"MOMMY!" Headache Number Two sprinted into the room, and jumping onto Harley's back.

It only saw it for half a second, but in that one moment, I saw the three of them as a family. The Joker/Allison yelling at the top of his/her lungs, Harley giggling with the little devil on her back, and the little devil bouncing up and down, grinning from ear to ear.

A strange family, but a family nevertheless.

All of Allison's hate, contempt and madness couldn't stop the warmth she felt towards her half brother, little Jack.

She really did love him, if even only a little bit.

Ya know, the whole thing kind of reminded me of my own family- not that I had much of one…

Ah well, it dosen't matter now…

::::::::::::

**A/N Heeey!!**

**evilquail: hello there bretheren of the sky!**

**Kurai: I hope you enjoyed this chapter immensely... And also hope it made sense. it's hard to write crazy people and make sense at the same time.... meh.**

**evilquail: i feel jovial today! Aint that right Lucille? **

**Kurail: well evilquails having a bit of a random streak so i think i'll wrap this one up**

**evilquail: nOOooooo i wanna feed the antelope! Toodallooo old chap and salutations to your geometric beaver!!**


	16. Chapter 15

**25 Grenades**

**Chapter 15**

**The Sixteenth Grenade**

_3 Months Prior…_

_Friday 9:30 A.M Gotham City Police Headquarters_

A cup of coffee is just what I need to get me out of this haze. Yeah, that would do it.

**"Hey, Jane, can you get me a cup of coffee? Sugar, no cream." **

**"Yeah sure, commissioner. You know it's nice to have everything finally back to normal around here. I thought that whole Joker thing would never end." **

She is right, when I think about it. The nine months around here have been pure hell, attempting to hire new men after the Joker so heartlessly killed our finest forces, moving from one temporary office to another, and trying to heal my own family after Two Face… no Harvey tried to kill us all. Well at least that's all over now.

Finally I get to do the job which I was hired to do, some stakeouts here and there, signing on speeding tickets, paperwork; I am no longer constantly in life or death situa…

**"Commissioner Gordon?" **

I peer out of my glasses at the tall figure in front of me. Detective Anthony Jacobs. Member of our unit for at least 15 years, I think.

**"What is it Jacobs?" **

**"The Joker has been spotted again, sir." **

I stand up startled. The reports said that he had died! It was a suicide they said, he cut himself from the cord connected to his leg, plummeting 43 stories. Was it even possible? My god, this man is invincible!

"**Where… where was he seen last?" **

"**Roebucks Department store. An hour ago. Downtown. He blew the entire building to kingdom come." **

I closed my eyes in defeat. How long would this craziness go on? First that Arkham Doctor goes batshit insane, then an un-killable murderous clown? No wonder every police commissioner in Gotham who managed to stay alive had left as soon as his contract expired.

"**My God, Jacobs. Think of all those innocent people."**

"**67 dead at the last count, sir." **

"**Why wasn't I informed of this earlier?" **

"**The commercial district wanted to keep it quiet for as long as possible, keep the customers reassured of their safety." **

"**I don't care how reassured the customers are, Roberts. A terrible crime has been committed. Call… call Batman."**

"**But sir! Batman is a wanted man!" **

"**He's our only hope." **

**:::::::::**

_Present Day_

He couldn't understand it. The evidence just wasn't matching up. He had been sure that the Joker who had bombed the Gotham West Shopping mall was a fake but he had never expected this.

Bruce Wayne had finally managed to get a hold on the security tapes which were recorded while the Joker went on his spree there. Perhaps there was some sort of new evidence in the tapes that would somehow reveal the Joker's identity. As he scanned the tapes carefully, comparing them to previous video archives of the madman from his time in prison, he noticed something startling:

The Joker's scars didn't match.

Surely the man couldn't change his facial deformities at will. Perhaps they were fake… but wait, that couldn't be right. The Jokers scars had stayed the same between the videos taken of him in prison and the video he took in that meat factory, so unless… no. He was thinking too skeptically. There was almost no chance that the Joker could survive a 43 story fall and be able to run around Gotham with no additional visible wounds just four months later.

The original Joker had died.

And this Joker had taken his place.

Bruce immediately knew that he had work to do.

::::::::::

"Hey Puddin?"

I turned around, furious.

_Can't that idiotic bitch see I have work to do? My God, can't a wo… man have some peace around this joint? _

"What. Do. You. Want."

"Uh…. Well… um… pudding..." Harley batted her huge fake eyelashes furiously as she fumbled with the newspaper in her hand, "I… I think you better see this…"

I grabbed the paper with rage. I really didn't feel the need to read about my exploits…

**The Joker's True face: His identity revealed! **

_Wait… what? _

**A new Television documentary: a 2 hour special tonight! We will reveal Gotham's #1 most wanted's real face to the world! **

_Oh. Crap. _

**Includes expert analysis of the man behind the makeup, a reconstruction of his face before the scars…**

_He? I breathed a sigh of relief. It's just a scam…_

… **And an exclusive interview with an ex henchman! Witness HISTORY tonight at 7 PM. **

_What if they know about my father… Oh…Oh god… _

My thoughts are interrupted by an ear piercing squeal.

"MISTAH J! THEYS GONNA FIND YOU! WE GOTTA DO SOMETHING!" Harley hoped around the room attempting to find pieces of her skimpy costume, "WE'S GONNA GET ARRESTED! OR WORSE!"

"Don't- uh worry Harley, daddy's got it taken care of."

"Ooh boy! This is gonna be awesome!"

::::::::

"For Christ's sake, Lisa, can you quit it with the blush?"

"Sorry Ian, you know the rules of GNN… even you guys have to put on the makeup."

Ian sat in his chair defeated. Economic times were tough enough as it was, his family didn't need him to lose his job over some pesky makeup. After all, his wife had just walked out, leaving him with three little kids to raise on his own.

He looked over his script for the evening again, to make sure he was ready. Sure, he had a teleprompter for every news caster, but one could only stare at it for so long before becom…

_CRASH! _

Perhaps the maintenance people had dropped a light or something. Stupid over paid immigrants…

"Sorry 'bout that puddin'!"

Wait… what?

Ian's thoughts were interrupted by a harsh blast to the head. Everything went black.

::::::::::

Allison smoothed her hair carefully, using the mirror belonging to the recently deceased. She was going on the TV after all, may as well look… nice…

"Hey Mistah J!?"

The "Joker" quickly turned around to face a petite slut holding a long pole attached to what looked like a feather duster.

"What is it deeeeeeeeeeeeeearie?" How Allison hated having to pretend to be that bitch's beau.

"Uh… What's this thingy 'spossed to do? That guy we tied up over there said it was a boom or somethin' but unless it has some explosives or somethin' I'm not sure what it's 'spossed to do!"

"It's for sound Haaah-rley." Allison slurred touching up the cracked and faded makeup on her face, "Ya hold it over the person talking so the… The-_uh_ audience can _hear._"

Harley dropped the equipment and ran over to hug her beloved, "You're such a genius Mistah J!"

Although it was from _her_, Allison couldn't help but feel flattered. But enough with the mushy feelings. She had a job to do.

"Ha_a_rley, give that boooom to a henchiiie and let's get this-_uh_ show on the road!"

::::::::::

Patti Napier grabbed the popcorn from the microwave. Ever since Allie… passed, things could never be the same. All she ever wanted to do now was sit and watch the TV. She heard the program tonight on GCN would be interesting, even though she wasn't clear on what it was about… but then again maybe she should just go to bed. After all, those news stations could never be trusted…

Especially how they treated her Jack.

She still loved him, that was for sure.

Although she couldn't truly accept it, she was sure of what he had become.

What if… no it was impossible...

What if… Allison had found out… about her father? What if she just couldn't take it? What if that's why she…

Oh God.

Patti had to get her mind off of the subject. Unfortunately the program she was about to watch was anything but comforting…

:::::

"Hello ladies and gentlemen." The reporter trembled in his seat as a bead of sweat rolled off his brow, "And… and welcome to tonight's special: The… the…"

"SAY IT!" A female voice screeched in the background.

"The… Joker's…t-t-true… Identity… a GCN special"

An echoing laughter was heard in the background as the sweaty reporter attempted to finish his speech with a gun at his temple.

"And… And now to… Chief… Anchor… Anchorwoman… Harley Quinn…"

As the camera began to pan to said clown, who was laying across the large table, Mark pulled the trigger on the poor newscaster. They wouldn't need him again, after all. Might as well get it done now. Before the guy said anything stupid.

"Haiiii everybody in Gotham!" Harleys shrill voice went up in several decibels, she was obviously excited by the recent turn of events. "So! I hear you all are curious as to mah puddin's identity! Well all I can say is… HE'S MINE BITCHES! ALL MINE! SO DON'T TRY AND TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME! OR ELSE YOULL HAVE TO ANSWER TO MAH BABIES! AND BOY ARE THEY HUNGRY TONIGHT!"

"Harleeeeeee…"A voice purred from somewhere off camera. "Perhaps we should get down to some business-_uh_?"

"Oh, right, sorrrrrrie Mistah J!" The petite "anchor" shuffled back into her seat, "So's tonight we have a very special guest on this show! One that you guyses could neeevah get! But leave it up to me- Harley Quinn to get 'im on the news for ya! So say hello to the one, the only, the very veeery sexy Joker!"

Allison motioned for the camera to switch to her. In full regalia, of course, she could easily pass for an older man, hell she could even fool his old lover. And she was about to fool the entire city.

"Hellllo citizens of Gotham City-_uh_. You are cordially invited from your own living rooms to see the… spectacular… events about to unfold right… _here_. That's right folks! Your favorite Gotham linguisssst is gonna interview me about ME!"

Harley and Mark shoved another one of the captive news casters onto the scene; this one was a beautiful brunette intern, one of the newest additions to the rapidly expanding staff of GCN.

"Uh… for the first…. First question how did you… how did you get… those scars?" The young girl shivered as Allison drew closer and closer, pretending to admire the girl's rather well defined bust.

"Well Misssss I can tell ya, but I'd have ta kill ya first!"

"Um… don't you mean kill… later."

"Uh… deariiiiiiie let me answer that with a resounding 'NO'"

Allison slashed the girls throat and let her body fall to the floor with a loud thud. Allison shivered in happiness. She could feel the horror of her audience echoing around the city.

"Shammmeee Harley was here for that-t… If I found that beauatty alone… well I probably wouldn't have killed-_uh_ her riiiight away."

At this remark, Harley quietly sobbed off screen.

Suddenly, Allison heard sirens outside.

_Time to go! _

"Well ladies and gentttts. This was fun-uh. But I'm afraid it's time to say buh… byee!" She waved at the camera happily.

As the clowns ran out of the building, Allison tossed her grenade into an open window.

_Ta-Ta, suckers!_

_

* * *

_

A/N Hai everyone! I missed you, did you miss me?

evilquail: well i sure did...

Kurai: ...k

evilquail: well anyways if you want to know whats going on Kurai insisted on writing it for like 5 months but then FINALLY she said i could write it and i wrote it in 2 days.

Kurai: sooo basically im a failbot

evilquail: and a warbear... don't forget the warbear!

Kuai: yepyepyepyep so we hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was pretty long thanks to quailz...

evilquail: i kinda felt a bit bad that it took us so long to update so i made it longer on purpose :)

Kurai: well good job! xD So hopefully i'll write the next chapter, but as we can see it might take a while. I'll try my best!~

evilquail: maybe we can get it done by 20011 notice the extra "0"

Kurai: yea, maybe, but i don't plan on living that long sooo

evilquail: haha you as an old person. That would be interesting... anyways I digress. Toodaloo old chaps and salutations to your sweaty green beans!


	17. Chapter 16

25 Grenades

Chapter 16

There are places I remember  
All my life though some have changed  
Some forever not for better  
Some have gone and some remain  
All these places had their moments  
With lovers and friends I still can recall  
Some are dead and some are living  
In my life I've loved them all

In My Life- The Beatles

Sometimes, she just wanted to die.

Where had her life gone wrong? All Patti had wanted was a simple family with the man she loved… It had been so wonderful. It had been love at first sight. They had never quarreled, even when times got tough and she was forced to work overtime at the local café to pay the rent for their shoddy apartment, even when she got pregnant because he insisted on going a night without protection…

Why did she leave? Here Jack, the love of her life, the shoulder she could lean on was in need of a support system for the first time in his life. He was vulnerable, in grief, and possibly in need of asylum for everyone's safety. If she had just looked past that night, the one night in which she was so afraid, the one night when he began to laugh, then maybe he would have never well… hurt anyone. If she had just found away to stay and find a therapist or counselor who would work with them for free, Gotham Social Services usually were able to provide that, she could have kept him well… sane.

The other day, when she had seen him on TV, she immediately knew something wasn't right, something wasn't the same. Those scars, injuries she knew by heart after attempting to dress them after Jack refused to go to the hospital, weren't the same. They had different patterns, and looked more… recent.

Patti had stayed up the last three nights trying to understand what had happened, coming to the conclusion that the Jo… no Jack hadn't survived the night he almost blew those ferries to kingdom come. Someone had taken his place.

For once in her life, Patti hoped that her Allison was really dead, really drowned in that lake. For at least there, she would not be caught up with her father's men, some of which knew about his past… and about his family. If it was true that Jack had… died, the men who knew of the family would surely try to hunt them down, looking for someone to take over for him, or worse- to enact revenge on.

::::::::::

Gasoline really starts a good fire—if ya have enough of it, there's quite the flame, otherwise, the building you're trying to destroy—in my case, Gotham's Home for the Deaf, would have slowly kindled—givin'em more than enough time to escape. But with the gasoline, it's quick—see? And they'll hardly be able to hear—sorry, see the fire alarms before they are engulfed in the stupidity of big government frugality in Gotham. Ya know, I think all buildings like that should be made of brick, they'd present more of a challenge to burn down. These wooden buildings, especially the old-timey ones with small doors and smaller windows… well if they weren't so pitiful in the department of fire safety, then I'd have to laugh about it.

It's a wonder that the Commissioner Gordon would allow this kind of shit. With that fantastic moustache—you'd think he'd make some better decisions or somethin'. He looks old for his age, Commissioner Gordon. He's 37 and looks like he's well on his way to 50. Must work to hard. Ya know… He really _should_ smile more…

Perhaps I could _assist_ him with that.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

HA.

::::::::::

He was found outside his house at six in the morning, in his pajamas, taken straight from his bed. Barely hanging on to life. The Joker hadn't wanted to kill him, the police and papers speculated. Otherwise he would have been long dead. And quite a bit more mangled.

His fingertips were chopped off; the now rotting and pungent flesh was saved, and arranged into a smiley face adjacent to his unconscious body.

After three days of intensive surgeries, the commissioner was awake, and after two weeks he was able to eat, albeit painfully. When he was able to speak again he told his coworkers, whom were trying to solve the case, that the removal of these small appendages were done almost as soon as he had woken up in the back of a van staring face to face with the Joker. The pain had been so great, that he began to fade into unconsciousness due to blood loss, much to the Joker's… dismay.

After using evidence found at the scene of the crime, police deducted what had happened next. First the Joker pushed a small serrated knife into the victim's mouth and slowly sawed up each cheek. Then, the Joker had thrown him out of the van and onto the sidewalk in front of the yard, arranging the severed pieces of appendage into the gruesome caricature before fleeing into the narrows, lobbing a grenade behind him as he drove to wake the neighbors and destroy more than a few houses.

The surgeons at the newly reconstructed Gotham General tried to minimize the damage, however the Joker had cut clean through his cheeks, making the wounds impossible to conceal with reconstructive surgery.

After five weeks in intensive care, the victim finally walked out of the hospital, to return to his family. This man, Commissioner Gordon, would never frown again.

* * *

Author's Note:

evilquail: hey guys so what just happened was patti is contemplating her life and allison decides Commissioner Godron is too... serious so she decides to carve a grin on his face (and cut off his fingertips) if you were wondering.

Oh by the way I will be writing the story by myself from now on, Murasaki Kurai will edit and proofread, but she dosen't have time to work on it anymore

Kurai: yeah so even though it's on my profile, i'm not writing it at all, so be sure to check out evilquail's for information regarding expected uptates ect.

evilquail: yep, well thanks for reading and go ahead and review, but just know that if you have a question or want a response to your review, then pm me as well as review, cause i can't go on Kurai's profile or anything (looks expectantly at Kurai)

Kurai: there is no way I'm giving her my password...

evilquail: aww :( well anyways toodaloo old chap and salutations to my former co-author


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